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THE 


CAMBRIDGE 
MODERN HISTORY 


AN ACCOUNT OF ITS 
ORIGIN, AUTHORSHIP AND PRODUCTION 


L .::.. r "'\ 3 \ I q\ ('..ç \' r' 
T :; 
V\
- ^
 L 
 
c..tIL\-ì 


Cambridge 
at the University Press 


19 0 7 



<!:ambtibgc : 
PRINTED BY JOHN CLAY, M.A. 
AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS. 


[All Rig
ts reserved] 



CONTENTS 


PAGE 


CHAPTER I.-LORD ACTON AND THE PLANNING OF THE CAJJIBRIDGE 
MODERN HISTORY · 5 
II.-THE EDITORS AND WRITERS OF THE HISTORY 17 


IlL-THE VALUE OF THE HISTOR Y . 21 


EXTRACTS FROM THE CAJfBRIDGE lJ,fODERN HISTORY: 
THE TRIAL OF SAVONAROLA 33 
THE NEW WORLD AND ITS GOLD 3 8 
MARTIN LUTHER AND THE DIET OF WORMS 4 2 
THE SPANISH ARMADA . 47 
RICHELIEU 53 
THE LAST CAMPAIGN OF GUSTAVUS ADOLPHUS. 58 
THE IMPEACHMENT OF STRAFFORD 64 
THE OVERTHROW OF THE FRENCH DIRECTORY 69 
NAPOLEON AT ST HELENA 72 
THE ASSASSINATION OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN 76 


CHAPTER IV.- THE CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS AND THE PRODUC- 
TION OF THE HIS TOR Y . 81 


V.-TERMS ON WHICH THE HISTORY MAY NOW BE OBTAINED 103 


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


JOHN EMERICH EDWARD, FIRST LORD ACTON 


To face þage 5 


A SIXTEENTH CENTURY PRESS 


" 


" 


83 


THE UNIVERSITY PRESS IN THE TIME OF CHARLES I 


· 85 


THE PITT BUILDING, CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS 


To face þage 89 


A CORNER OF THE LARGE I\lACHINE-ROOM, CAMBRIDGE 
UNIVERSITY PRESS 


" 


" 


9 8 


BOOKCASE DESIGNED FOR THE CAMBRIDGE MODERN HISTORY 


" 


" 106 




JOHN EMERICH EDWARD, first LORD ACTON 


Photograþk by Elliott a1ld Fry 



THE CAMBRIDGE MODERN HISTORY 


CHAPTER I. 


LORD ACTON AND THE PLANNING OF THE HISTORY 


.,. 'T! :'.: N F ebrllary 1896, Lord Acton held 
-.:JP't;.... ... 
 the l{egius Professorship of Modern 
'.

f .'

.t.
 Histor y at Cambrid g e. A Y ear had 
o .1' i'
 
'-;1 ., ;: 



 past since he had settled, 'in a happier 
., \' t.
 
 ' hour' as he spoke of it himself, in the 
. f - ' University which, five-and-forty years 
l' '" 
. 
 " before, he had hoped to join. His 
devotion to truth, his ideal of perfection, his learníng and 
his cosmopolitan outlook were already impressed on historical 
studies and on Cambridge. 
The influence which Lord Acton exercised, both at Cam- 
bridge and else\vhere, can readily be understood. To quote 
a writer in The A the1zæum ' No glorified encyclopædia, no 
aggregate of unrelated facts confronted the inquirer who 
interrogated Lord Acton, but a soul in whom spoke, as it 
seemed, the wisdom of the ages, and from whose depths there 
issued the very oracles of history, shining with the light that 
comes of absolutely single love of truth, penetrating even the 
gloom of the future by an illuminative knowledge of the 
past......To be \vith Acton was like being with the cultivated 
mind of Europe incarnate in its finest characteristics. In the 
deep tones of his voice there seemed to sound the accents of 
history. I n those unflinching phrases we heard the impersonal 



6 CAMBRIDGE MODERN HISTORY 


estimate of the future, weighing in unerring balance the 
thoughts and deeds of the actors of the present or past, with 
a knowledge that kne\v no gap.' 
So when, early in the year 1896, the idea of a great 
English Universal History came to the Syndics of the Cam- 
bridge Press, and they turned to Lord Acton, it was not 
solely by virtue of his Chair. F or, position apart, there 
could have been no better help than his in the planning of 
The Canzbridge Modern Hl:story. How Lord Acton received 
the suggestion then made to him, appears from a letter he 
addressed, in March 1896, to the Secretary to the Syndics 
of the Press:- 
'The suggestion conveyed in your letter, on the part of 
the Syndics, would be felt as an- honour by any man, and is 
especialIy grateful to me, as cementing my recent connection 
with the University, and cro\vning its generous reception of 
an intruder. 
'Regarding it as a first, preliminary step, I beg leave to 
say that I am ready provisionally, and to the same degree as 
a First Reading, to entertain the idea, and to give it my best 
consideration, until the time comes \vhen the scheme has 
ripened, and you require a definite and final answer, on a 
fuller survey of all the conditions. 
'The idea you deposited in my mind, when you spoke to 
me last month, was this: whether a Syndicate, utilising the 
best resources of such an intellectual centre as Cambridge, 
might not advantageously undertake to do, for the next 
generation, what Weber attempted for the last.... Two things 
appear to me certain, on the threshold: there is no man who 
can do it, and no work that can serve as a basis for translation 
or adaptation. 
'After that, a number of problems arise. Do you think of 
a serious compilation, or of an original work? The first 
n1ight be managed by a fair division of labour in Cambridge 
itself, or nearly. The other would require you to employ all 
the best men that can be got to work, in England, and I 
should hope some in America.' 



PRELIMINARY QUESTIONS 


7 


This preliminary point having been determined, by the 
decision to produce an original work and no mere compila- 
tion, Lord Acton received a definite request to undertake the 
editorship, and accepted it in these terms:- 
'I must ask leave to express my thanks to the Syndicate 
of the Press for their invitation to join in so important an 
undertaking. I have not hesitated as much as I ought to do, 
on account of the difficulty, because my office here makes it a 
duty not to be declined, and because such an opportunity of 
promoting his o\vn ideas for the treatment of history has 
seldom been given to any man.' 
This letter was dated 2 I May 1896, and, soon afterwards, 
it was arranged that Lord Acton should prepare a full and 
detailed report on the scheme. This report, which was laid 
before the Syndics in the follo\ving October, is of great 
interest, both as an expression of Lord Acton's ideas and 
as an indication of the lines on \vhich, in the main, The 
Ca?7lbrzl/ge Modern History has proceeded. Before giving 
extracts from the report, \vhich has never before been 
published, it will be of interest to print part of another letter 
addressed by Lord Acton to the Secretary to the Syndics. 
I t is dated 15 July 1896, and \vas written while Lord Acton 
\vas at \vork on the report:- 
'There is one matter on which I desire to secure your 
agreement, in view of the time \vhen I shall bring it before 
the Syndicate. I mean to say, that universal history is not the 
sum of all particular histories, and ought to be contemplated, 
first, in its distinctive essence, as Renaissance, Reformation, 
Religious Wars, Absolute Monarchy, Revolution, etc. The 
several countries mayor may not contribute to feed the main 
stream, and the distribution of matter must be made accord- 
ingly. The history of nations that are off the line must not 
suffer; it must be told as accurately as if the whole was 
divided into annals. But attention ought not to be dispersed, 
by putting Portugal, Transylvania, Iceland, side by side with 



8 CAMBRIDGE MODERN I-IISTORY 


France and Germany. I wish to speak of them \vhen they 
are important, and not whether or no, according to date. 
They are important and intelligible in their own sequence, 
and should be told in that way, not broken into bits, accord- 
ing to chronological order. I would have no Russian chapter 
until Russia becomes a factor in general history, under Peter 
the Great. His reign \vould be introduced by a sufficient 
and connected retrospect of intransitive Muscovy. So with 
Sweden, Prussia and others. When Venice, after a last 
appearance, early in the seventeenth century, vanishes from 
the scene, and lives for herself: there should be a prospective 
sketch, down to 1797. 
'In this \vay, every part would have a meaning, and local 
history would possess unity, even it: it does not point outwards, 
or serve any cause but its own. What is successive is con- 
nected by the law of causation; what is simultaneous is not 
connected by any law or any cause but accident. The objec- 
tion is that so much and such energetic grouping, in obedience 
to ideas and not to dates, is difficult to carry out, and to 
explain to unwilling writers...... I venture to think that it can 
be done, and will add considerably to the philosophic unity, 
the significance, and the interest of what will be a history but 
not a chronicle.' 


Then, in October, came the detailed report to the Syndics, 
from which the following is an extract :- 


'I submit t
e follo\ving observations in reply to the question 
proposed by the Syndics. 
'The idea of a Universal Modern History has been executed 
with success already, both in France -lod in Gernlany. I do 
not allude to Oncken or to \Veiss, for Gncken's 24 volumes 
form a series of independent works, without any attempt to 
fuse the nlaterials together, and Weiss addresses an exclusive 
public. Our conlpeting predecessors would be Weber of 
Heidelberg, and the authors of the general history \vhich 
appears under the direction of Lavisse and Rambaud Both 



LORD ACTON)S REPORT 


9 


of these have mastered the difficulties of the task \vhich is 
before us. 
'Weber comes in about 4000 pages from the XVth Century 
to the Revolution, and to the present day in as many more. 
The Frenchmen, who have got down to 1800, observe nearly 
the same proportion. Therefore, twelve volumes, each with 
65 0 pages of text, and 550 words to a page, would have a 
slight advantage, in quantity, over the only rivals that occupy 
the ground. 
, Weber's Weltgeschl:chte, lately revised by his friends, is a 
useful compilation; and the Hzstol:re Géllérate, written almost 
8!1tirely by experts, is a superlative \vork of reference. The 
University of Cambridge, with its resources and prestige, 
is in a position to aim higher, and to accomplish more. 
'I propose to divide the history of the last 400 years into 
short chapters, averaging 30 pages, each complete in itself: 
and dealing with one topic, or a single group of events, 
accurately defined. And I ,vould distribute them among the 
largest number of available \vriters, inviting every English 
hístorian who is con1petent, to contribute at least a chapter. 
, I t would be history not as it appears to the generality of 
instructed n1en, and is taught all the world over, but as each 
of the several parts is kno\vn to the man who knows it best. 
There would be a clean text, without foot-notes, or foreign 
quotations, or reference to particular authorities. The name 
of the author ,vould be the reader's security for obtaining, 
without discussion or parade, the most perfect narrative that 
any English or American scholar can supply, in the appointed 
space. 
, I t will be necessary to prescribe exact limits and conditions, 
and to explain clearly what we desire to obtain, and to avoid. 
We shall avoid the needless utterance of opinion, and the 
service of a cause. Contributors will understand that \ve are 
established, not under the meridian of Green\vich, but in 
longitude 30 \Vest; that our \Vaterloo must be one that 
satisfies French and English, Germans and Dutch alike; that 
nobody can tel1, \vithout exarnining the list of authors, \vhere 



10 CAMBRIDGE MODERN HISTORY 


the Bishop of Oxford laid down the pen, and whether 
Fairbairn or Gasquet, Liebermann or Harrison, took it up. 
, I t is a unique opportunity of recording, in the way most 
useful to the greatest nun1ber, the fulness of the kno\vledge 
which the nineteenth century is about to bequeath. A mere 
reproduction of accepted facts would fall beIQw the occasion, 
and behind the n1en1orable date. 
c In some instances, \vhere there is nothing new to tell, ,ve 
shall adopt tbe ,vords of Thiers: H on est déjà bien assez 
nouveau par cela seul qu'on est vrai:' Nobody, with 30 pages 
to do it in, can aspire to improve on Pastor's POþes of 
the Re1Zaz.ssance, Ritter's Cou1Zter Refo rln a lz:o lZ, Holst's CO1/,- 
stitutional History of Slavc1)', Treitschke's Germany during 
the Peace, or Brückner's and Vandal's volumes on Russia. 
Where all accessible information has been thoroughly absorbed, 
,vhere the \vork is ne\v and, for the moment, final, intelligent 
boiling do\vn \vill be sometimes enough for our purpose. But 
we shall not often be left to this resource, and I hope that 
almost every page \vill be a light to every reader. \Ve must 
raise the \vhole to the level of our best nlen, and discourage 
second-hand studies. 
, I t used to be meritorious to compose history, as Hallam 
did, without any original matter beyond the usual authorities. 
Raumer, at the height of his credit, renounced the easy quest 
of the unkno\vn, and based his Modern History on the as- 
sumption that all requisite knowledge may be had from 
common books. The new material in Ranke's Rifo'rlnatio1t 
appeared so scanty as to create an impression that there 
,vas nothing more to discover, and Lingard was glad that 
Macaulay's narrative compelled but fe\v changes in his own. 
Macaulay \vould hardly apply Ling1.rd's words to himself, if 
he could see \vhat his successors have made of the subject 
on which he satisfied the demand of his contemporaries; and 
Ranke's book seems to us divided by more than half a century 
froin the Reformation as it is known to !{awerau. 
c There has been not only progress but subversion and re- 
ne\val since manuscripts have come into use almost without 



LORD ACTON'S REPORT 


I I 


linlit; since cro\vds of scholars are on the watch for them, 
and the supply of documents exceeds the supply of histories. 
The policy of concealment, abandoned in so many places, as 
neither I taly nor Prussia ,vas interested in keeping the secrets 
of fallen governments ,vhose records were in their hands, has 
broken down altogether, and at last the Vatican discloses the 
guarded treasures of Galileo's tower. 
'The printing of archives has gone on parallel with the 
admission of enquirers, and the Master of the Rolls alone has 
made public 500 volumes of sources. Other countries are as 
profuse. While the Camden Club has produced 75 volumes, 
one Spanish Collection, the Ðocumentos I neditos, extends to 
half as many more. The Historical MSS. Commission is proud 
of its 46 volumes; but a single Russian family, the '.IV oronsows, 
have issued about as many from their o,vn family papers. At 
Vienna there is one series in 48 volumes, another in 83, and 
a third in 126; at Berlin, one in 65, and a much larger one at 
Florence. 
'The example is followed in every province of I taly, France 
and Germany. Even Croatia has reached the 28th volume of 
its records. The Venetian despatches from Austria, those of 
the Nuncios from Germany, those from all parts regarding 
critical stages in Bavarian history, are being methodically 
edited. At Rome, in 1857, Doellinger drew up a remon- 
strance against the suppression of the Acta T ridentina, and 
urged that there were no means of deciding between Pallavicini 
and Father Paul. The Council of Trent is known to us no\v, 
not through those rivals, but from the evidence that ,vas 
before them, and from much besides. Between 200 and 3 00 
of Calvin's letters were kno,vn when Dyer wrote his Life: 
ten times as many are in print to-day. Above 20 volumes of 
Frederic's correspondence have appeared since Carlyle. 
'The entire bulk of new matter which the last 40 years 
have supplied amounts to many thousands of volunles. The 
honest student finds himself continually deserted, retarded, 
misled by the classics of historical literature, and has 
to he\v his o\vn way through multitudinous transactions, 



12 CAMBRIDGE MODERN HISTORY 


periodicals and official publications, where it is difficult to 
sweep the horizon or to keep abreast. By the judicious 
division of labour, we should be able to do it, and to bring 
home to every man the last document, and the ripest can... 
elusions of international research. 
& Ultimate history we cannot have in this generation; but 
we can dispose of conventional history, and show the point 
we have reached on the road from the one to the other, now 
that all information is within reach, and every problem has 
become capable of solution. 
'AU this does not apply to our o\vn time, and the last 
volumes will be concerned with secrets that cannot be learned 
from books, but from men. Although so much has been done 
for Cavour and Bismarck, we have little authentic literature 
about Napoleon I I I, and less about Thiers. After Sir 
Theodore Martin, Windsor is silent; Lord Rowton conceals 
one part of our story; Spencer "VValpole has left half told 
another; and much more is buried in a to\ver at Hawarden. 
'If \ve employ the right men, and establish a claim to con- 
fidence, we may hope to give a good account even of the 
Victorian era. Certain privately printed memoirs, such as 
Lord Broughton's, may not be absolutely inaccessible; the 
papers of one Prime Minister are in type, and part is in my 
custody; and there are elderly men about to\vn, gorged with 
esoteric knowledge. F or the unwritten history of later times, 
as for the unprinted history of earlier times, all will depend on 
the successful selection of \vriters. 
& A true scholar, \vho is asked to contribute to a monumental 
\vork a couple of sheets on the one subject that most occupies 
his thoughts, and who has several years allowed him for the 
purpose, can hardly plead want of time....... I have a hypo- 
thetical list of about 120 men \vhom I should be glad to 
secure. At close quarters, some will turn out to be men 
in buckram; but, when we have consulted the best advice 
about contributors, at Oxford, in the North, in Ireland and 
America, at the Museum and the Rolls, at the Public Offices, 
for I :1dia, the Colonies, and "Var, among the clergy, the 



LORD ACTON'S I
EPORT 


13 


lawyers and the Jews, ,ve shall have as many ne,v suggestions 
as there will be names to expunge, and we shall still have 
before us a conjectural 120. Assuming that one half are sure 
to decline or to fail us, I ,vould undertake the task, as I conceive 
it, with the remainder....... 
'The Canzbridge Modern History ought to be the com- 
position of English, American and Colonial pens. But in an 
emergency, we must take a capable foreigner rather than an 
inferior countryman....... Every part of the work must be 
planed down and mad
 flush, and we shan be obliged to 
negotiate a good deal, touching the rightful books to employ 
and the matters which the economy of the whole work requires 
to be included under each particular head. 
'If we treat history as a progressive science, and lean 
specially on that side of it, the question will arise how we 
justify our departure from ancient ,vays, and how we satisfy 
the world that there is reason and method in our innovations. 
If our Wallenstein is very unlike Ranke's; if our Burke is 
neither the Burke of Morley, nor of Lecky; if we differ both 
from Taine and Sorel in the Revolution, our verba magistri 
will not avail against greater masters. 
c To meet this difficulty we must provide a copious, accu- 
rate and well digested catalogue of authorities. Lavisse and 
Rambaud have done it most successfully. They devote 3 0 
or 40 pages to their Bibliography, and give at least 1500 titles, 
in each volume. Even with less space, and a severer choice, 
we might make this feature a most valuable aid to historical 
studies. Our principle would be to supply help to students, 
not material to historians. But in critical places we must in- 
dicate minutely the sources we follow, and must refer not 
only to the important books, but to articles in periodical 
works, and even to original documents, and to transcripts 
in libraries. 
<<The result would amount to an ordinary volume, pre- 
senting a conspectus of historical literature and enumerating 
all the better books, the ne,vly acquired sources and the last 
discoverie5. I t would exhibit in the clearest light the vast 



14 CAMBRIDGE MODERN HISTORY 


difference between history, original and authentic, and history, 
antiquated and lower than high water mark of prescnt learning. 
'By Universal History I understand that which is distinct 
from the combined history of all countries, which is not a 
rope of sand, but a continuous development, and is not 
a burden on the memory, but an illumination of the soul. It 
moves in a succession to which the nations are subsidiary. 
Their story will be told, not for their o\vn sake, but in refer- 
ence and subordination to a higher series, according to the 
time and the degree in which they contribute to the common 
fortunes of mankind. Secondary states appear, in perspective, 
when they carry flame or fuel, not \vhen they are isolated, 
irrelevant, stagnant, inarticulate, sterile, passive, when they 
lend nothing to the forward prog.ress or the upward growth, 
and offer no aid in solving the perpetual problem of the 
future. 
, Renaissance and the Epoch of Discovery, Reformation and 
Wars of Religion, Turkish Crusade and 'VVestern Colonization, 
European Absolutism, Dutch, English, American, French 
Revolution and its derivatives, the constitutional, democratic, 
national, Social, Liberal, Federal, movement of the world- 
that is the great argument of the epic that we are to expose. 
These things are extraterritorial, having their home in the 
sky, and no n10re confined to race or frontier than a rainbow 
or a storm. 
'I would keep to the main line, attending to the byways at 
the junction only, and direct our thought on the common 
effort, the central action of men, by which the landmarks of 
civilization have been extended, and the moving force re- 
newed. I \vould tell all \Vp know of Solyman, Sixtus, Warren 
Hastings, not of every Sultan, POpf', or Governor General. 
Geneva would be prominent under Calvin, Portugal under 
Pombal, Corsica under Paoli; but they would otherwise retire 
into obscurity. Switzerland slumbers from the Reformation 
to the Revolution; Denmark, from 1660 to 1770; Venice, 
from the beginning of the seventeenth century; Holland, from 
the beginning of the eighteenth. We should give a retrospect 



LORD ACTON'S REPORT 


15 


of the history of Russia when it emerges, under Peter the 
Great, thereby following the natural order of cause, not that 
of fortuitous juxtaposition. I think Taine is right when he 
says: "Pour expliquer les événements, i1 suffit de les disposer 
dans l'ordre convenable. C'est dire leur cause que leur donner 
leur place." 
'Whilst we give general history and not national, unless as 
tributary, so also we give general history, not that of religion 
and philosophy, of literature, science and art. They, too, 
appear at many points and influence the course of public 
events from time to time; but when they do not, then we 
are not concerned with them, and have not to describe their 
orbit when there is no conjunction. 
c I t may be said that these are vulgar and retrograde notions, 
contracting the sphere and degrading the level of history; that 
we might enrich it with what men have thought as well as 
wrought; that the true n1ark and measure of the age would 
be a work con1bining the method and the "\visdom of Buckle 
and Draper, Whe\vell and Leslie Stephen, Burckhardt and 
Lamprecht, Harnack and Haym, Ihering and Gierke and 
Sohm. I \vish I knew how all these strains could be blended; 
but it is certain that we must present history in the ,yay most 
widely accepted. 
c I ,vould meet the objection, and unite the moral and in- 
t
llectual realm with that of political force, on the following 
plan. There "\vould be a chapter, at intervals, on each branch 
of literature, 'v hen it attains supremacy, and impresses its 
character on the age....... This portion of the plan \vill be the 
most difficult to execute, and it is impossible, \vithout much 
detail, to explain how I hope to conquer the obvious dangers, 
and to make it practical and scientific.... I do not wish to reduce 
all history to a mere narrative of political transactions. 
, If History is often called the teacher and the guide that 
regulates public life, which, to individuals as to societies, is as 
important as private, this is the time and the place to prove 
the title. The recent past contains the key to the present 
time. All forms of thought that influence it come before us 



16 CAMBRIDGE MODERN HISTORY 


in their turn, and we have to describe the ruling currents, to or- 
interpret the sovereign forces, that still govern and divide the 
world. There are, I suppose, at least a score of them, in 
politics, economics, philosophy and religion, and our treatment 
cannot be complete, or systematic, or made to scale. 
, But if ,ve carry history down to the last syllable of recorded 
time, and leave the reader at the point where study passes into 
action, we Inust explain to him the cause, and the growth, and 
the power of every great intellectual movement, and equip him 
for many encounters of life. The part thus assigned to our 
later volumes is a thing that no other work has attempted, and 
that no other work could do so well. 
'Therefore the essential elements of the plan I propose for 
consideration are these:- · 
Division of subjects among many specially qualified writers; 
Highest pitch of knowledge without the display; 
Distinction between the organic unity of general history 
and the sum of national histories, as the principle for 
selecting and distributing matter; 
Proportion between historic thought and historic fact; 
Chart and compass for the coming century.' 


The plan outlined in this report received the approval 
of the Syndics of the Press. Lord Acton began his editorial 
work and an announcement of the enterprise was made in 
The AthenæU1n on 12 December 1896. But the task was a 
great one, and, unhappily, Lord Acton did not live to com.. 
plete it. In April 1901, when the greater part of the first 
volulne was already in type, serious illness con1pelled him to 
put aside his work, and the Syndics, soon afterwards, were 
constrained to accept, with great reluctance, his decision to 
relinquish the editorship. In ] une 1902, Lord Acton died 
at Tegernsee in Bavaria. 



. 


CHAPTER II. 


THE EDITORS AND WRITERS OF THE HISTORY 


.,';;:,.,.-' .:i1


 N Lord Acton's retirement, the 
yndi
s 

p 
,<".
1
 o.
; of the Press entrusted the edItorshIp 
ji.: 
 
.; *:
 '\'< of the History to a council of three. 
.
-. 

 ....' 
 Dr A. W. Ward, Master of Peterhouse, 
. 
 

,. r I P . · 1 d P c f 

.
. ::, __ .. 

( 

 lo
mer y . rlnCIpa an rOleSS?r? 

'. ,;

 . 

. ,;..


vr:'".
 HI
tory .In the Owens College, Vl
toria 


. 
"'
":f__'
:'
. UnIversIty, Manchester, was appoInted 
editor-in-chief, \vith Dr G. W. Prothero, 
at one time Professor of History in the University of Edin- 
burgh, and Mr Stanley Leathes, Lecturer in History in Trinity 
College, Cambridge, as his colleagues. Twelve months after 
their appointment, and some four months after I40rd Acton's 
death, the first volume of The Ca11zbridge llfodern Hz.story saw 
the light. Under the same editors the work is now approaching 
completion. 
Turning to the writers of the History, we find an illus- 
tration of the appeal which Lord Acton's scheme made to 
those who, perhaps, were best able to appreciate its value 
-his brother historians. The History, it will be borne in 
mind, was to be the original work of the men \vho kne\v 
each part best. Barely two months after the definite adoption 
of the scheme by the Syndics of the Press, we find Lord 
Acton reporting the success of his efforts to gather writers 
who should carry knowledge 'forward across the frontier of 
the unkno\vn: Eighty invitations had been sent out, he said, 
of which ten were still unanswered. Of those who had 


c. M. H. P. 


2 



18 CAMBRIDGE MODERN HISTORY 


replied, t"relve had refused and fifty-eight had accepted. So 
three out of every four of the specialists whom Lord Acton 
held to be the best qualified, accepted, readily and promptly, 
his invitation to contribute. 
Of this first band of fifty-eight, S011le fell out, we know, 
from this cause or that, but the names of the majority are to 
be found in the following list of \vriters whose original \vork, 
supervised by the editors, forills the volumes actually published 
of The Calnbridge Moder11, H-isto1"Y. 


TI-IE CAMBRIDGE MODERN HISTORY 


WRITERS IN VOLU
IES I-IV AND VII-X 


Rafael Altamira, Professor In tlu University of Oviedo. 
E. Annstrong, Fellow and Tutor of Queen's College, Oxford. 
Sz}'mon Askenazy, Professor i/l. the University of Le1llberg. 
R. Nisbet Bain, Assistant Librarian, British AIuselt1n. 
Count U go Balzani, of the Reale Accademia dei Lincez: 
\VillÍaln Barry, D.D. 
The late Mary Bateson, Lecturer at Ne t wnlza?1l College, CambrÙlge. 
E. A. Benians, Fellow of St Jolin's College, Cambridge. 
Melville M. Bigelow, Professor in the Law School, BostOll University 
Lady Blennerhassett. 
Én1ile Bourgeois, Professor in the University of Paris. 
Émile Boutroux, Professor in the University of Paris. 
A. G. Bradley, Trinity College, Callzbridge. 
Moritz Brosch, Ph.D. 
Horatio F. Brown, LL.D. 
P. Hume Brown, Professor in the University of Edinburgh. 
Oscar Browning, University Lecturer Ùl History, Canlbridge. 
L. Arthur B urd, Jl.f. A. 
J. B. Bury, Regius Professor of Afodern History, Cambridge. 
A. J. Butler, Professor of Italian in UnizJers"ty College, Londoft. 
J. H. Clapham, Professor oj' Eco1lonzits in the University of Leeds. 
The late H. Butler Clarke, .A:f.A. 
A Clutton Brock, Nnv College, Oxford. 
w. E. Collins, .Bishop if Gibraltar. 
W. J. Courthope, CB., D.Lill. 
The lale Mandell Creighton, Bishop of LOJldon. 
William Cunningham, Fellow of Tn.llity College, CaJ/zbridge. 



THE WRITERS 


19 


H. \V. C. Davis, Tutor of Balbol College, Oxford. 
John A. Doyle, Fellow of All Souls College, Oxford. 
R. Dunlop, M.A. 
R P. Dunn-Pattison, Magdalen College, Oxford. 
George Edmundson, formerly Tutor of BraseJZose College, Oxford. 
Hugh E. Egerton, Beit Professor of Colonial History, Oxford. 
Henry Crosby Emery, Professor of Political Economy, Yale University. 
A. M. Fairbairn, Principal of lvIansjield College, Oxford. 
J. Neville Figgis, formerly Birkbeck Lec/uret Í1z Ecclesiastical History at 
Trinity College, Cambridge. 
C. H. Firth, Regius Professor of .JI.foderll IIistory, Oxford. 
II. A. L. Fisher, Fellow and Tutor of New College, Oxford. 
G. K. Fortescue, Keeþer oj Printed Books, Bri#sh Museum. 
J
mes Gairdner, C.B., LL.D. 
The late S. R. Gardiner, Regius Professor of ltfodern I:listory, Oxford. 
The late Richard Garnett, Keeþer of Printed Books, British Museum. 
G. P. Gooch, Tn"nity College, Cambridge. 
Anton Guilland, Professor of History, Zurich. 
Henry Higgs, H.Jrf. Treasury. 
Martin Hurne, of the Royal Sþanz"sh Academy. 
'V. H. Hutton, Fellow and Tutor of St John's College, Oxford. 
M. R. J an1es, Provost td King's College, Cambridge. 
The late Sir Richard C. Jebb, Regius Professor of Creek, Cambridge. 
August K.eim, Major-General Ï11 the GerJllall Army. 
F. A. Kirkpatrick, of Trinity College, Cambridge. 
The late F. X. Kraus, Professor in the University of Freibltrg i. Br. 
J. K.. Laughton, Professor of Modern Hi'story, King's College, London. 
R. V. Laurence, Fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge. 
The late Thomas Graves Law, Librarian at the Signet Library, Edinbllrgh. 
Henry Charles Lea. 
Stanley Leathes, forl1lerly Fellow oj TriniIJ' College, Cam,bridge. 
Sidney Lee, Litt.D. 
T. 11:. Lindsay, Principal of the Glasgow College of the United Free Church 
of Scotland. 
E. M. Lloyd, Colonel R. E. 
Richard Lodge, Professor of History in the University of Edinburgh. 
J. R. Moreton Macdonald, of Magdalen College, Oxford. 
J. B. 1\l C 11aster, Professor in the University of Pennsylvania. 
The late F. \v. 11aitland, ÐowllÙzg Professor of the Laws of Englalzd, 
Cambridge. 
F. C. Montague, Professor of Histor)' in University College, London. 
John B. l\Ioore, Professor ill the Columbia University, New York. 
] alues Bass 
I ullinger, UniversilJl Lecturer in History, Ca1Jlbridge. 


2-2 



20 CAMBRIDGE MODERN HISTORY 


J. S. Nicholson, Prqfessor in the UniversilJ1 of EdÍ11burgh. 
The late John G. Nicolay. 
C. 'V. On1an, Chichele Professor of Modern Histmy, Oxford. 
The late E. J. Payne, Fellow of University College, Oxford. 
Georges Pariset, Professor Ùl the University of /lancy. 
Julius von Pflugk-Harttung,formerlj1 Professor in the Ulliversity of Basle. 
\V. Alison Phillips, of St John's College, Oxford. 
A. F. Pollard, Professor in UnizJersity College, London. 
G. ,v. Prothero, formerly Professor of History in the University of Edinburgh 
\V. F. Reddaway, Fellow of KÙzis College, Call1bridge. 
Emil Reich, Dr. Jur. 
J. G. Robertson, Professor of Gerlllan in the UllÏ7 1 ersity of London. 
J. Holland Rose, Christ's College, CaJllbridge. 
John Christopher Schwab, P"qfissor in Yale Uiu7.Jersity. 
Carlo Segrè, Professor Ùt the University 0 ROllle. 
'V. A. Shaw, Public Record Office. 
Theodore Clarke Sn1Ïth, Assistant Profissor, Ohio State Ullivc."rsity. 
Eugen Stschepkin, Proftssor Ùz the University of Odessa. 
J. R. Tanner, Fellow and Tufor of St John's College, Canlbridge. 
H. W. V. Temperley, Fellow of Peterhouse, Ca1nbridge. 
A. A. Tilley, Fellow of King's College, Ca1nbridge. 
T. F. Tout, Professor in the Vie/oria University, .Afanchester. 
Paul Viollet, Professor in the École des Chartes, Paris. 
T. A. \Valker, Fellow and Tutor of Peterhollse, Cambridge. 
A. \V. 'Yard, .Afaster if Peterhouse, Call1bridge. 
Barrett \Vendell, Professor in Harz'ard Ulli'l!ersity. 
J. P. \Vhitney,fornler(y PrÙzcipal of the Bishoþ's College, Lennoxville, Quebec. 
L. G. \Vickhau1 Legg, Lecturer at New College, Oxford. 
P. F. \Villert, Honorary Fellow of Exeter College, Oxford. 
H. W. \Vilson, of Trini/y College, Oxford. 
\V oodrow \Vilson, President of Prince/on University. 


It has been said of The Ca17zbridge Modertl Hi'story that 
many Universities and t'vo Continents were ransacked for 
contributors. That the statement is no mere figure of speech 
is shown by this list of writers, \vhich will be enlarged by that 
of contributors to the volumes of the work still unpublished. 
The names it includes-to quote Lord Acton's report-are 
(the readers' security for obtaining, without discussion or 
parade, the most perfect narrative that any English or 
American scholar can supply.' 



CHAPTER III. 


THE VALUE OF THE HISTORY 




 .::..,. T is 'modern history that people are 

Jii!t.. . '

 t ignorant of, and curious about,' ,vrote 
.' 
.
 
 Lord Acton to the Syndics of the 
!'''. \.1. 
f
: Press in 1Ylarch 18 9 6 . \Vhat he 

.t"

'i meant by 11Z0t{em history is best told in 
\ få-
 
 his own \vords, in a passage from his 
; . / Inaugural Lecture on the Study of 
History. 
I describe as Modern History,' he then said, 'that \vhich 
begins lour hundred years ago, \vhich is marked off by an 
evident and intelligible line from the time immediately pre- 
ceding, and displays in its course specific and distinctive 
characteristics of its own. The modern age did not proceed 
from the medieval by normal succession, \vith out,vard tokens 
of legitimate descent. Unheralded, it founded a new order 
of things, under a la\v of innovation, sapping the ancient reign 
of continuity. In those days Columbus subverted the notions 
of the ,vorld, and reversed the conditions of production, ,vealth, 
and power; in those days Machiavelli released government 
from the restraint of la,v; Erasmus diverted the current of 
ancient learning from profane into Christian channels; Luther 
broke the chain of authority and tradition at the strongest 
link; and Copernicus erected an invincible po,ver that set for 
ever the mark of progress upon the time that \vas to come.... 
The like effects are visible everywhere, and one generation 


, -. 
"'.,.. . 
 
. ,l- ... f'I'Iø" '. 
 
. t;
',

 or 
":. : \

J ". 

 \, ,'


.. 
...
 .:
 -n;. 
.'1. '..,. -'l;: 
'. .....,;...'1 
\ .J: . J. 
....." . ",- 
" .' ...

 ,''{t: .., 
...- .
t' , . " 
.'" 



22 CAMBRIDGE MODERN HISTORY 


beheld them all. I t was an a\vakening of new life; the world 
revolved in a different orbit, determined by influences un- 
known before. After n1any ages persuaded of the headlong 
decline and impending dissolution of society, and governed 
by usage and the will of masters who were in their graves, 
the sixteenth century \vent forth armed for untried experience, 
and ready to watch with hopefulness a prospect of incalculable 
change. That forward movement divides it broadly from the 
older world....... 
'To men in general I would justify the stress I am laying 
on Modern History, neither by urging its varied wealth, nor 
the rupture ,vith precedent, nor the perpetuity of change and 
increase of pace, nor the growing predominance of opinion 
over belief, and of knowledge over opinion, but by the argu- 
ment that it is a narrative told of ourselves, the record of a 
life which is our o\vn, of efforts not yet abandoned to repose, 
of problems that still entangle the feet and vex the hearts of 
men. Every part of it is weighty with inestimable lessons 
that we must learn by experience and at a great price, if we 
know not how to profit by the example and teaching of those 
who have gone before us, in a society largely resembling the 
one we live in. I ts study fulfils its purpose even if it only makes 
us wiser, without producing books, and gives us the gift of 
historical thinking, which is better than historical learning. J 


No words could better express both the interest and the 
value of the study of modern history. And the work which 
Lord Acton himself planned is the only original work in the 
English language which unfolds, not for one country but for 
all, that tale told of ourselves, that record of problems still 
to be solved. 
The narrative of The Ca11zb1--idge Modern, History is no 
string of disconnected episodes, but one which displays a 
continuous development. FroIn the Middle Ages to the 
present day, the general history of Europe and her colonies, 
and of America, is told in twelve volumes, for each of which 
some historical fact of signal importance is chosen as the 



"fITLES OF THE VOLUMES 23 


central idea, round which individual developments are grouped, 
not accidentally, but of reasoned purpose. The central facts 
or figures \vhich thus give to each volume in succession a 
unity not of name alone, are these:- 


I.-THE RENAISSANCE 
I I.- THE REFORMATION 
111.- THE \V ARS OF RELIGION 
IV.-THE THIRTY YEARS' WAR 
V.-BOURBONS AND STEWARTS 
V I.- THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY 


VII.-THE UNITED STATES 
VIII.- THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 
IX.-NAPOJ-EON 
X.- THE RESTORATION 
XI.- THE GROWTH OF NATIO
ALITIES 
XII.-THE LATEST AGE 


These phrases form the sub-titles of the twelve volumes 
of text, t\VO of \vhich are published in each year. As regards 
the order in which they appear, the volumes form two series, 
corresponding with the t\VO columns above. Thus, the first 
volume to be published ,vas Volume I, The Renaissance; the 
second, Volume VII, The United States; the third, Volume II, 
The RefOYl1zatÙJít; and so on. Under this arrangement eight 
volumes have now appeared, namely Volumes I, I I, I I I and 
IV and Volumes VII, VIII, IX and X. 
The first of the published volumes of text, The Re1zaissance, 
includes so much of antecedent history as is necessary for the 
clear understanding of the conditions with which it is con- 
cerned. Each v:olutne contains a full bibliography, a chrono- 
logical table of leading events and an index. To supplement 
the narrative, two additional volumes are to be published, 
making fourteen in all; one to contain Maþs and the other 
Genealog'ical and other Tables and a full and detailed General 
Index to the whole work. 
Of these supplementary volumes) the first will, it is 
believed, meet a want \vhich has been very widely expressed. 
The maps contained in it, now in preparation under the 
personal supervision of the editors, will show particular 
countries at successive epochs and ,vill form many series of 
historical maps of importance and of great illustrative value. 
They will be mounted, in a separate volume, so as to open 



...4 CAì\IBRIDGE MODERN HISTOR \7" 


flat across both pages of that book; and the reader \\'ill 
thus be able to turn \vithout inconyenience from the page he 
is reading, in one volunle, to the nlap he ".ishes to consult, in 
the other. 
"e haye seen that the aim of Th Can bridg .JIodc 
Hz:ç or ' is high. T,yo-thirds of the te-xt haye already appeared, 
and h3.ye been revie\ved in Inost of the leading English 
and ,i-\merican journals, and in n1any foreign periodicals. 
T / Ca b idg(' .J od. His/or is thus not an untried 
".ork. The chapter headings from the published yolumes 
ma) gh.e at least an idea of the ,yay in \vhich historic e,.ents 
are grouped; extracts from the text ".ill sho\y the manner 
of treatment, ,yhile re,.ie".s from the public press may 
ser\.e either to calI attention to particular points of interest or 
to indicate the judgn1ent of the journal from ".hich the quota- 
tion is Inade. 
There \yill be found. on pages 25-32 of the present 
pamphlet, the chapter headings of \ olumes I to 1\ and 
\ I I [0 
, ,vith a feu. press notices of each yolume. After 
these, on pages 33-80, ten extracts are given from the text 
of the His ory'. I t has been necessary to abbre\.iate the 
chapter headings in some instances, ,yhile the press notices 
ha, e had to be confined to a fe\y lines only taken from t\yO 
or three reyie,ys. The extracts from the te
.t of the Hi's/ory 
itself ".ill, ho,veyer, be found to be no mere specimen pages, 
but passages sufficiently full and conlplete in themselves and 
to afford fair means of judging the value of T 1 Ca1Jzb i ígc 
,.1 olt. Hi.sfo ). 



CONTEt
TS 


25 


V OLUl\fE I.-THE RENAISSANCE 


Introductory Note. By BISHOP CREIGHTON, D.D. 
I. The Age of Discovery } 
2. The New vVorld By E. J. PAYNE, M.A. 
3. The Ottoman Conquest. By J. B. BURY, Litt.D., LL.D. 
4. Italy and her Invaders. By STANLEY LEATHES, ftLA. 
5. Florence (I): Savonarola. By EDWARD ARMSTRONG, 1\1.A. 
6. Florence (2): Machiavelli. By L. ARTHUR BURD, IvLA. 
7. Rome and the Temporal Power. By RICHARD GARNETT, C.B" LL.D. 
8. Venice. By HORATIO BROWN, LL.D. 
9. Germany and the Empire. By T. F. TOUT, 11.A. 
10. Hungary and the Slavonic Kingdoms. By EMIL REICH, Dr.Jur. 
I I. The Catholic Kings. By H. BUTLER CLARKE, 1I.A. 
12. France. By STANLEY LEATHES, 1\1.A. 
13. The Netherlands. By A. 'V. WARD, Litt.D" LL.D. 
I 4. The Early Tudors. By JAMES GAIRDNER, C.B., LL.D. 
15. Economic Change. By WILLIAM CUNNINGHAM, D.D 
16. The Classical Renaissance. By Sir RICHARD C. JEBB, Litt.D. 
I7. The Christian Renaissance. By 1-1. R. J A
IES, Litt.D. 
18. Catholic Europe. By 'VILLIA
f BARRY, D.D. 
19. The Eve of the Reformation. By HENRY CHARLES LEA. 
BibliograPhies: Chro1tological Table of Leading Evellts: Index. 


Times. Forty years ago it would have been impossible, and twenty years ago 
it would have been difficult, to find in the United Kingdom a body of scholars who 
could have dealt with the various problems of European history in the 15th century 
with anything like the fulness of knowledge exhibited in the volume before us....... 
The careful bibliographical Jist, which will be useful to students as a guide, and to 
non-students as an indication of the immensity of the range which modern historians 
must cover, is remarkably complete. 
Glasgow Herald. The work deserves high praise and warm welcome as a 
momentous step in the popularisation of the results of recent historical speculation 
and research. For a popular work, in the best sense of the term, it is essentially j 
although, or rather because, at the same time it is a thorough and scholarly one. 
Its appeal is not specially to the historical expert, but to the average intelligent, 
educated man who is a student of history, and has no time or opportunity to go to 
the original documents. 
Guardian. It owes its completion, its editing, and, to some extent, its moulding 
into form, to the skilful and sympathetic working of three Cambridge scholars-the 
best historians whom at different dates during comparatively recent years she has 
produced.......They have had a difficult task and well have they carried it out. 
Observer. Chapter after chapter shows the spirit of Renaissance at work in 
different parts of the civilised world, and in different ways; social, economic, and 
religious developments are illustrated, and tl:e reader closes the book with a sense 
of having had the past revealed to him with a new clearness and force. Noone 
who reads this volume but will await with interest its successors, which bid fair to 
form one of the greatest literary undertakings of the kind; a history that is at 
once tascinating for the general reader and invaluable for the student, who not 
only has the history but wonderfully full bibliographies, should he wish further to 
explore anyone of the manifold branches of the great subject. 



26 CAMBRIDGE MODERN HISr-rORY 


V OLUl\IE I I.-THE REFORMATION 


I. Medicean Rome. By Professor KRAUS. 
2. Habsburg and Valois (1). By STANLEY LEATHES, M.A. 
3. Habsburg and Valois (II). By STANLEY LEATHES, 11.A. 
4. Luther. By T. ß,I. LINDSAY, D.D. 
5. National opposition to Rome in Germany. By A. F. POLLARD, l\LA. 
6. Social Revolution and Catholic Reaction in Germany. By A. F. 
POLLARD, M.A. 
7. The Conflict of Creeds and Parties in Germany. By A. F. POLLARD, M.A. 
8. . Religious Wars in Germany. By A. F. POLLARD, 
1.A. 
9. The Reformation in France. By A. A. TILLEY, M.A. 
10. The Helvetic Reformation. By J. P. WHITNEY, M.A. 
I I. Calvin and the Reformed Church. By A. M. FAIRBAIRN, D.D. 
12. The Catholic South. By 'v. E. COLLINS, B. D. 
13. Henry VIII. By JAMES GAIRDNER, C. B., LL. D. 
14. The Reformation under Edward VI. By A. F. PO
LARD, :rvI.A. 
IS. Philip and Mary. By J. BASS !\1:ULLINGER, !\.LA. 
16. The Anglican Settlement and the Scottish Reforn1ation. By F. 'V. 
l\fAITLAND, LL.D. 
17. The Scandinavian North. By W. E. COLLINS, B.D. 
18. The Church and Reform. By R. V. LAURENCE, M.A. 
19. Tendencies of European Thought in the Age of the Reformation. By 
A. M. FAIRBAIRN, D.D. 
Bibliographies: Chronological Table of Leading E7}ellts: Index. 


Daily Clzr01dcle. The Reforn1ation has never been presented with such fulness 
of knowledge, richness of illustration, absolute fidelity to fact, freedom from bias, 
and penetrating insight, as in this volume.......Great as the task is of tracing these 
secular events yet it is accomplished with a completeness of knowledge and 
perfection of loyalty to truth and fact, that, so far as I know, is not equalled in 
historical literature. Most cordial thanks are due to the editors and writers for 
a volume which is sure to take, and likely to keep, the foremost place in the 
authoritative literature of the Reformation. 


Tinzes. I t is a volume which is a special justification of Lord Acton's scheme 
of producing a history by assigning it in portions to various hands. It is scarcely 
conceivable that a single mind could adequatel)F comprehend or describe the 
complex movements which made up the Reformation. Dramas of the deepest 
intensity were simultaneously worked out in the several countries of Europe, and 
in each country there were circumstances, connected with its past history or its 
existing characteristics, which gave a peculiar character to its development.......lt 
is the best account of the great century of the Reformation available to English 
readers. 


Daily Mail. A scholarly note runs through the whole of the volume, deeply 
erudite, deeply sensible, sounded by men of academic learning, with their hearts in 
their subject and their souls in the movement which revolutionised the ancient 
religious faith of Europe; each epoch, and its workers in the supreme struggle, 
being described by a separate hand. The result is a panorama, moving before the 
reader, gorgeous with the various colourings of a great battle, whose scenes are laid 
in different countries. 



COI'
TENTS 


27 


VOLUME I I 1.- THE WARS OF RELIGION 


I. The 'Vars of Religion in France. By A. J. BUTLER, 1\I.A. 
2. French Humanisn1 and Montaigne. By A. A. TILLEY, 
I.A. 
3. The Catholic Reaction, and the Valois Báthory Elections, in Poland. 
By R. NISBET BAIN. 
4. The Height of the Ottoman Power. By MORITZ BROSCH, Ph.D. 
s. The Empire under Ferdinand I and Maximilian II. By A. W. WARD, 
Litt.D., LL.D. 
6. The Revolt of the Netherlands. By GEORGE EDMUNDSON, 
I.A. 
7. \Villiam the Silent. By GEORGE EDMUNDSON, M.A. 
8. Mary Stewart. By THOMAS GRAVES LAW, M.A. 
9. The Elizabethan Naval 'Var with Spain. By J. K. LAUGHTON, 
1.A. 
10. The Last Years of Elizabeth. By SIDNEY LEE, Litt. D. 
I I. The Elizabethan Age of English Literature. By SIDNEY LEE, Litt.D. 
12. Tuscany and Savoy. By E, ARMSTRONG, 1LA. 
13. Rome under Sixtus V. By COUNT U GO BALZANI. 
14. The End of the Italian Renaissance. By A. J. BUTLER, 
I.A. 
15. Spain under Philip II. By 
Iajor l\fARTIN HUMK. 
16. Spain under Philip III. By Major MARTIN HUME. 
17. Britain under James I. By Professor S. R. GARDINER. 
18. Ireland to the Settlelnent of Ulster. By R. DUNLOP, 
f.A. 
19. The Dutch Republic. By GEORGE EDMUNDSON, M.A. 
20. Henry IV of France. By STANLEY LEATHES, M.A. 
2 I. The Empire under Rudolf II. By A. 'V. \V ARD, Litt.D., LL.D. 
22. Political Thought in the Sixteenth Century. By J. NEVILLE FIGGIS, l\LA. 
Bibliograþhies: Chronological Table of Leading Events: Index. 


Times. As this great work advances it attracts more and more attention. It 
will soon be in the hands of men, as its founder said, 'grown grey with the dust of 
archives,' who will prove all things as no reviewer can hope to prove them. But 
we are confident that those who have organized the endeavour have nothing to fear. 
Where the standard has been a high one the only anxiety is to improve on what has 
been done, and future editions, .if altered, will but be a good thing bettered. 
Daily Chronicle. It is a wonderful repertory of learning and teaching, of sifted 
evidence and balanced judgment, and belongs distinctly to what the originator of 
the series called the' epoch of full-grown history.'......This volume is a most 
valuable addition to our historical literature, informing, interesting and illumi- 
nating j a bright 'lamp shining in a dark place.' 
Guardian. We have hitherto had no complete account in English of the 
extraordinarily complicated events-political, religious, social-which changed the 
history of Europe and so profoundly affected the future of very many States, 
between 1525, the Compact of Cracow, anà 1621, the death of Philip III of Spain. 
And here, with admirable lucidity, and in almost every case equally admirable 
conciseness, we have such an account.......Only a dozen specialists could adequately 
criticise the work of writers so especially accomplished. Our task must be more 
general: to express a thorough agreement with the lines taken, and approval of 
the methods in which each writer has carried out his work. The volume is one of 
thoroughly good, sound, historical achievement from one end to the other. 



28 CAMBRIDGE MODERN HISTORY 


VOLUl\fE IV.-THE THIRTY YEARS' WAR 
I. The Outbreak of the Thirty Years' 'Var. By A. W. WARD, Litt.D., LL.D. 
2. The Valtelline (1603-39). By HORATIO F. BROWN, LL.D. 
3. The Protestant Collapse (1620-30). By A. W. \VARD, Litt.D., LL.D. 
4. Richelieu. By STANLEY LEATHES, M.A. 
5. The Vasa in Sweden and Poland (1560-1630). By "V. F. REDDAWAY, M.A. 
6. Gustavus Adolphus (1630-2). By A. W. WARD, Litt.D., LL.D. 
7. 'Vallenstein and Bernard of Weimar (1632-5). By A. 'V. 'VARD, Litt.D. 
8. The Constitutional Struggle in England (1625-40). By G. W. 
PROTHERO, Litt.D. 
9. The First Two Years of the Long Parlialnent (1640-2). By G. W. 
PROTHERO, Litt.D. 
10. The First Civil War, 1642-7. By G. 'V. PROTHERO, Litt.D., and 
Colonel E. M. LLOYD, R. E. 
I I. Presbyterians and Independents (1645-9). By G. "V. PROTHERO, 
Litt.D., and Colonel E. M. LLOYD, R.E. 
12. The Westminster Assembly. By "V. A. SHAW, Litt.D. 
13. The Later Years of the Thirty Years' 'Var (1635-48). By A. 'V. 'VARD. 
14. "fhe Peace of , Vest ph alia. By A. 'V. \V ARD, Litt.D., LL.D. 
15. The Commonwealth and the Protectorate (1649-59). By 'V. A. SHA'V. 
16. The Navy of the Comn10nwealth and the First Dutch War. By J. R. 
TANNER, Litt. D. 
17. Scotland from the Accession of Charles I to the Restoration. By 
P. HUME BROWN, LL.D. 
18. Ireland, from the Plantation of Ulster to the Cromwellian settlelnent 
(161 I-59). By R. DUNLOP, M.A. 
19. Anarchy and the Restoration (1659-60). By C. H. FIRTH, LL.D. 
20. The Scandinavian North (1559-1660). By 'V. F. REDDA\VAY, 
1.A. 
2 I. Mazarin. By STANLEY LEATHES, l\1.A. 
22. Spain and Spanish Italy under Philip III and IV. By MARTIN HUME. 
23. Papal Policy, 1590-1648. By MORITZ BROSCH, Ph.D. 
24. Frederick Henry, Prince of Orange. By GEORGE EDMUNDSON, M.A. 
25. The Transference of Colonial Power to the United Provinces and 
England. By HUGH E. EGERTON, M.A. 
26. The Fantastic School of English Poetry. By A. CLUTTON BROCK, B.A. 
27. Descartes and Cartesianism. By ÉMILE BOUTROUX. 
Bibliograþhies: Chronological Table of Leading Events: Index. 
AthenCl'um. There is throughout the volume a great deal of special work that 
demands warm commendation. But even more is praise due to the judgment of 
authors and editors by which, for the most part, the truly inlportant points are 
emphasized.......For the most part exactly what should be said is said, and is said 
accurately. 
Scotslnall. The editors and those who arc cooperating with them have pro- 
duced a comprehensive history of one of the most intricate and baffling epochs in 
the progress of civilisation in a manner that redounds to the credit both of those 
who planned the whole, and of those who have executed the parts. 
Daily At ail. Every department of the history is given to SOllle one who has 
made a special study of that section.......The field of modern history is too vast, 
and the authorities to be consulted are too many for one man to cover the whole 
ground of world-history with sufficient thoroughness and impartiality.......For a 
trustworthy narrative of general history, a combination of specialists under an 
intelligent body of editors is the only practical method. 



CONTENTS 


29 


VOLUl\fE VII.-THE UNITED STATES 
I. The First Century of English Colonisation (1607-1700). By JOHN A. 
DOYLE, 1\1.A. 
2. The English Colonies (1700-63). By JOHN A. DOYLE, M.A. 
3. The French in Anlerica (1608- 1 744). By MARY BATESON. 
4. The Conquest of Canada (1744-61). By A. G. BRADLEY. 
5. The Quarrel with Great Britain (17 61 -7 6 ). By JOHN A. DOYLE, M.A. 
6. The Declaration of Independence (1761-76). By MELVILLE M. BIGELOW. 
7. The War of Independence (1776-83)' By JOHN A. DOYLE, M.A. 
8. The Constitution (1776-89)' By IvIELVILLE 1\1:. BIGELOW. 
9. The Struggle for Commercial Independence (1783-1812). By J. B, 
McMASTER. 
10. The 'Var of 1812-15. By H. ,V. WILSON, B,A. 
II. The Growth of the Nation (1815-28). By J. B. McMASTER. 
12. Commerce, Expansion, and Slavery (1828-50). By J. B. McMASTER. 
13. State Rights (1850-60). By \VOODRO\V 'VILSON. 
14. The Civil War: 1(1861). ByJOHNG.NICOLAY. 
15. The Civil 'Var: II (1862-63)' By JOHN G. NICOLAY. 
16. The Civil \Var: III (1864-65). By JOHN G. NICOLAY. 
17. Naval Operations of the Civil 'Var (1861-65)' By H. 'V. \VILSON, B.A. 
18. The North during the \Var (1861-65)' By JOHN G. NICOLAY. 
19. The South during the \Var (186 1-65). By JOHN CHRISTOPHER SCHWAB. 
20. Political Reconstruction (1865-85). By 1'HEODORE CLARKE SMITH. 
21. The United States as a World-Power (1885-1902). By JOHN B. MOORE. 
22. Econonlic Development of the United States. By HENRY CROSBY EMERY. 
23. The American Intellect. By BARRETT 'VENDELL. 
Bibliograþhies: Chronologkal Table of Leading Events: Index. 


Sþectator. The story of the war as told in this volume by the late Mr John 
G. Nicolay is, in our judgment, a contribution to modem history of absolutely the 
first importance. By the premature death of this gifted and judicial writer the 
\Vorld of letters is indeed the poorer. He possessed that gift of selecting and 
disposing of incidents which is possessed only by the first rank of historians and 
artists. He knew how to show forth great events and their moving impulses by 
the presentation of salient characteristics suggestively related, and he never 
allowed his narrative to be drowned in detail, nor the epic nature of the drama 
he presented to be obscured by the foam of words. We doubt if the great Civil 
War will ever be depicted again with such living force as in Mr Nicolay's clear, 
noble presentment. 


Pall Mall Gazette. This volume is a most valuable instalment of the great 
Cambridge Modern History. It is wen planned and well carried out. It gives in 
a brie
 form, with an .exceedingly useful al1d carefully selected bibliography, the 
best history of the U mted States down to the independence of Cuba that has yet 
appeared on either side of the Atlantic, and not only of the United States, but also 
of the Dominion down to the permanent establishment of English government....... 
The success of this useful undertaking is assured; the public has readily under- 
stood the value of Lord Acton's excellent scheme of history; such a volume as this 
before us can only add largely to its welcome. 



30 CAMBRIDGE MODERN HISTORY 


VOLUME VII I.-THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 
I. Philosophy and the Revolution. By P. F. WILLERT, M.A. 
2. 1'he Governn1ent of France. By F. C. MONTAGUE, M.A. 
3. Finance. By HENRY HIGGS, M.A. 
4. Louis XVI. By F. C. MONTAGUE, M.A. 
5. The Elections to the States General. By F. C. MONTAGUE, M.A. 
6. The National Assembly, and the Spread of Anarchy. By F. C. 
MONTAGUE, M.A. 
7. The Constitution of 1791. By F. C. :rvrONTAGUE, 1LA. 
8. The Legislative Assembly. By J. R. MORETON J\1:ACDONALD, M.A. 
9. The National Convention to the Fall of the Gironde. By J. R. 
J\10RETON MACDONALD, M.A. 
10. The Foreign Policy of Pitt to the Outbreak of 'Var with France. By 
OSCAR BRO'VNING, M.A. 
I I. The European Powers and the Eastern Question. By RICHARD LODGE. 
12. The Terror. By J. R. MORETON MACDONALD, M.A. 
13. The Thermidorian Reaction and the end of the Convention. By J. R. 
MORETON MACDONALD, J\1.A. 
14. The General 'Var. By R. P. DUNN-PATTISON, M.A. 
IS. The Naval 'Var. By H. ,V. 'VILSON, B.A. 
16. The Directory. By G. K. FORTESCUE. 
17. The Extinction of Poland, 1788-97. By RICHARD LODGE, M.A. 
18. Bonaparte and the Conquest of Italy. By J. HOLLAND ROSE, Litt. D. 
J9. The Egyptian Expedition. By J. HOLLAND ROSE, Litt.D. 
20. The Struggle for the Mediterranean. By H. 'V. WILSON, B.A. 
21. The Second Coalition. By J. HOLLAND ROSE, Litt.D. 
22. Brumaire. By H. A. L. FISHER, 
1.A. 
23. Revolutionary Finance. By HENRY HIGGS, 1LA. 
24. French Law in the Age of the Revolution. J3y PAUL VIOLLET. 
25. Europe and the French Revolution. By G. P. GOOCH, M.A. 
Bibliographies: Chrollological Table of Leading Ez'ents: Index. 


Guardian. Now we have entirely what we had wished for-a clear, coherent, 
well-written, accurate account of the great cataclysm, of its origin, its work, its 
effects. The tragedy is told in the Cambridge History with an admirable dignity, 
with the true historic feeling, based upon thorough and accurate knowledge....... 
The point which will strike readers most, we think, is the unity of tone and treat- 
ment which belongs to the whole book. There is throughout the smne wise, 
tolerant, moral, emphatic judgment which comes of thorough understanding and 
sound historical criticism. This admirable spirit is notable everywhere. It is by 
far the best account of the subject which we possess. 
Athenaum. A work of such lasting value and solid scholarship must become 
a standard authority. 
Dally Mail. The 'Ca1nbridge 11lodern nlstory grows apace, and we begin to 
realise something of its greatness. Planned by Lord Acton, this library of history 
could not have had a finer inspiration, and it is no mere complin1Cl1t to say that 
Lord Acton's wonderful conception is being wonderfully realised. 



CONTENTS 


3 1 


VOLUME IX.-NAPOLEON 


I. The Consulate, 1799-1804. By GEORGES PARISET. 
2. The Anned Neutrality, 1780-1801. Sect. I. By T. A. VVALKER, 
LL.D. Sect. II. By H. \V. WILSON, B.A. 
3. The Pacification of Europe, 1799-18:>2. By ANTON GUILLAND. 
4. France and her Tributaries, 1801-3. By ANTON GUILLAND. 
5. France under the Empire, 1804-14. By GEORGES PARISET. 
6. The Codes. By H. A. L. FISHER, M.A. 
7. The Concordats. By L. G. 'VICKHAM LEGG, 1:I.A. 
8, The Command of the Sea, 1803-15. By 1-1. 'V. \VILSON, B.A. 
9. The Third Coalition. I. 1805 -6. By Colonel E. M. LLOYD, R. E. 
10. The Third Coalition. II. 1806-7. By Colonel E. M. LLOYD, R.E. 
I I. The Napoleonic Empire at its Height, 1807-9. By J. HOLLAND ROSE. 
12. The 'Vàr of 18::>9. By Major-General AUGUST KEIM. 
13- The Continental System, 1809-14. By J. HOLLAND ROSE, Litt.D. 
14, The French Dependencies and Switzerland, 1800-14. The French 
Dependencies. By H. A L. FISHER, f\f.A. Switlerland. By 
ANTON GUILLAND. 
15. The Peninsular 'Var, 1808-14. By C. ,V. OL\lAN, 1I.A. 
16. Russia under Alexander I, and the Invasion of 1812. By RUGEN 
STSCHEPKIN. 
17. The War of Liberation, 1813-4. .By J. VON PFLUGK-IIARTTUNG, Ph.D. 
18. The First Restoration, 1814-5. By H. A L. FISHER, M.A. 
19. The Congress of Vienna, I. 1814-5. By A. W. VVARD, Litt.D., LL.D. 
20. The Hundred Days, 1815. By C. 'V. OMAN, 1I.A. 
21. The Congress of Vienna, II. 1815. By A. 'V. WARD, Litt.D., LL.D. 
22. Great Britain and Ireland, 1792-1815. By G. P. GOOCH, M.A. 
23. The British Empire, 1783-1815. India and Ceylon. By 'V. H. 
HUTTON, 
I.A. The Colonies. By H. E. EGERTON, 
1:.A. 
24. St Helena. By H. A. L. FISHER, 1\1.A 
Bibliographies: Chrollological Table of Leadi11g Events: Index. 


Standard. Everyone who wishes to understand where Napoleon triumphed 
and where he failed, as well as the influence of his life and work, whether in peace 
or war, on the destinies of nlankind, ought to study this admirable and in many 
respects brilliant ninth volume of The Cambridge i
fodern History......written by 
experts, English, French, and German, who know how to present the conclusions 
gained by wide reading and independent thought in a style that is lucid, and with 
a brevity only possible to scholars who have assimilated their learning....... 
Unquestionably, this is one of the most interesting and valuable volumes of 
The Cambrt"dge lJfodern History-a veritable storehouse of information and a 
trustworthy aid to the interpretation of a dramatic and memorable epoch. 
Daily ChroN.icle. An array of skilfully tr..arshalled facts of the Napoleonic era 
such as probably has never before been gathered in one volume. 
Guardian. The editors of this magnificent work deserve the congratulations 
of all who are interested in history. Their labours, which must have been 
immense, have been rewarded by the unstinted praise which has been bestowed on 
this volume. 



32 CAMBRIDGE MODERN HISTORY 


VOLUME X.-THE RESTORATION 
I. The Congresses (1815-22). By 'V. ALISON PHILLIPS, 
1.A. 
2. The Doctrinaires. By LADY BLENNERHASSE'lT. 
3. Reaction and Revolution in France. By ÉMILE BOURGEOIS. 
4. Italy. By CARLO SEGRÈ. 
5. The Papacy and the Catholic Church. By LADY BLENNERHASSETT. 
6. Greece and the Balkan Peninsula. By \V. ALISON PHILLIPS, M.A. 
7. Spain ( 181 5-45). By RAFAEL ALTAMIRA. 
8. The Spanish Dominions in An1erica. By F. A. KIRKPATRICK, M.A. 
9. The Establishnlent of Independence in Spanish America. By F. A. 
KIRKPATRICK, J\;I.A. 
10. Brazil and Portugal. By GEORGE EDMUNDSON, M.A. 
II. The Germanic Federation (1815-40). By A. F. POLLARD, 
LA. 
12. Literature in Germany. By J. G. ROBERTSON, 
1.A., Ph.D. 
13. Russia. By S. ASKENAZV, Ph.D. 
14. Poland and the Polish Revolution. By S. ASKENAZV, Ph.D. 
15. The Orleans Monarchy. By ÉMILE BOURGEOIS. 
16. The Low Countries. By GEORGE EDMUNDSON, M.A. 
17. Mehemet Ali. By 'V. ALISON PHILLIPS, M.A. 
18. Great Britain (1815-32). By H. 'V. V. TEMPERLEY, 
I.A. 
19. Catholic Emancipation. By H. \V. C. DAVIS, 1LA. 
20. Great Britain and Ireland (1832-4I). By G. P. GOOCH, M.A. 
2 I. Canada. By E. A. BENIANS, 11.A. 
22. The Revolution in English Poetry and Fiction. By W. J. COURTHOPE, 
C.B., D.Litt. 
23. Economic Change. By J. H. CLAPHAM, M.A. 
24. The British Economists. By J. S. NICHOLSON, D.Sc. 
Bibliograþhies: Chronological Table of Leading Events: Index. 


As this pamphlet is prepared on the eve of the publication 
of Volun1e X, no revie\vs of that volume are available. So 
we may pass at once to the last, and perhaps the best, of the 
means which are here furnished for forming an opinion of the 
value of The Cauzb1/'z'dge Modern History-namely, a series 
of extracts from the published volun1es. 
Following these passages from the Nzstory, which occupy 
the forty-eight pages from page 33 to page 80, there wiII be 
found a slight sketch of the interesting history of the Cambridge 
University Press itself (pages 81 -91), some account of the 
mechanical production of The Ca1Jzbridge M"odern History 
(pages 91-102), and particulars of the various bindings in 
which the volumes are issued and of the terms on \vhich the 
History may now be obtained (pages 103-106). 



EXTRACTS FROM 


THE CAMBRIDGE MODERN HISTORY 


THE TRIAr
 OF SAVONAROLA 


(From, volume I, ch.apter V, "Florence: Savonarola," by 
E. Arm$lrong, .i1/.A., Fellow W Qzæen's College, Oiford) 
N ei ther Sa yonarola nor the Franciscan challenger, Francesco da 
Puglia, were the chaIn pions of their Orders. Domenico da Pescia, 
Savonarola's right hand, represented the Dominicans, and Frà Ron- 
dinelli the l
ranciscans. The painful tale of the ordeal is too well 
known to bear retelling in detail. The Franciscans were gathered 
in the Loggia, and the huge pile was laid in the great Piazza, when 
the Dominicans entered in procession, two by two, alnid lines of torch- 
bearers, followed by Frà Don1enico bearing the Host, and his Prior 
bearing the Crucifix. Their chant " Let God arise and let his enell1ies be 
scattered" was caught up by the faithful on every side. r:!."he square 
was free but for the armed bands of the governll1ent, and the groups of 
the leading supporters of each party; but every window and every roof 
was dark with eager onlookers, hungering for Iniracles or horrors. 
Then followed the unseemly wrangles between the Orders, Franciscans 
insisting that Frà Domenico must be stripped of his robes for fear they 
should be enchanted, Dominicans refusing to send their chall1pion to the 
flames without the Host. Then canle the drenching thunderstorIll, and 
their wrangles again till eventide, ,vhen the k
i{j1wria disnlissed the 
Friars to their convents. 'The Don1inican procession reached San l\Iarco 
anlid the yells and threats of a disappointed inob. 
'rhe populace, long wavering, had nlarle up its Inind. SonIe were 
angry at their own credulity, others at the proposal to endanger the 
IIoly Sacrament. !\fany were disgusted at losing a spectacle for which 
they had waited wet and weary; others had hoped that the DOlnini- 
can's death by fire would purify the State fron1 faction. Savonarola 
preached to his disciples that he had won the victory; but in their 
hearts they doubted it, for they gathered to defend the convent in 
expectation of an onslaught. This was not slow in con1ing. On the 
following day, Palm Sunday, the C017lpagnacci shouted down a Domi- 
nican preacher in the catheòral, and amid cries of "To San l\Iarco" 
led the mob against the convent. Vnlori escaped to rally adherents round 
his palace and to attack the enenlY f1'()ll1 without. But the assailants 
were too quick; Valori reached his house with difficulty and hid himself; 
his wife, looking fron) an upper window, was killed by a cross-bow. 
'rhen callIe officials of the Signoria and took hÎJn from his hiding-place 
towards the Palazzo. The weak escort was overpowered; a Ridolfi and 
a Tornabuoni hacked the Piagnone leader down, in vengeance for their 
relation's death, and so the greatest citizen in Florence died unshriven in 
the street. 
Ieanwhile San l\Iarco was gallantly defended. The bell 
:3 



34 


Tlte trial of Savonarola. 


[1498 


was tolling to rally the Piagnoni, who, however, were isolated in the 
churches or in their houses in blank dismay. Women were gathered in 
the nave in prayer, while Savonarola stood before the altar, Sacrament in 
hand, with his novices around him, expecting martyrdom, for the convent 
doors were burnt and the enemies crowding in. It was high time that 
the Signoria should interfere in the cause of order. All lay citizens 
,\rere commanded on their allegiance to leave the convent ,vithin an 
hour. Further resistance was hopeless. Savonarola and Frà DOlnenico 
surrendered under promise of safe conduct. For the last time the Prior 
gathered the Brethren in the library, and besought them to abide 
in faith, in prayer, in patience. The officers led their prisoners out into 
the street, and thence to the Palace, through the surging, howling lllOb, 
spitting, kicking and striking at its victims. On the following day 
Frà Silvestro left his hiding-place and was given up. 
From the mOlllent of Sa.vonarola"'s arrest, his execution became a 
necessity of State; nothing else ,vould satisfy the people, who would 
otherwise have clamoured for a proscription of his party; nothing else 
would have healed the divisions alnong the governing class. The 
religious strife had not only cleft the city in twain; it was lllaking 
her alliance worthless to any foreign power. The news of Charles VIII's 
death had arrived, it seemed certain that Pisa could only be recovered 
through the League, and this ,vould give no aid while Savonarola 
thundered from the pulpit against the Pope. Exile was an alternative 
to death, but exile ,vould have removed the danger to a foreign and 
almost necessarily hostile State; the Piaglwni would never rest, while 
there was a possibility of their leader's return. The Pope at once 
urged the transference of the prisoner to Rome; the government, as a 
reward for silencing the prophet, pressed for a tithe upon the clergy for 
the Pisan war. Florentine independence declined to play the sheriff's 
officer for Rome, and Savonarola's extradition ,vas refused; as a con1- 
pron1ise the Pope sent cODunissioners to aid in his exaulination. 
The trial of the three Friars lasted froln April 9 until May 
2. 
Their depositions and those of other citizens are not necessarily worthless, 
because they were extracted under torture. Torture was invariably 
applied, and such a view would invalidate, for instance, the whole of 
the evidence on which the 
ledicean conspirators ,vere condelnned. 
Savonarola ,vas, however, a bad subject. His nervous, highly-strung 
constitution, weakened by asceticism and anxiety, shrank from physical 
pain. Though never abandoning his duty, he had always been haunted 
by the fear of personal violence; he frequently referred to his provi- 
dential escapes from the poison or the dagger of Ludovico ü .J.
foro, 
although successive governments devoted to the Friar never contrived 
to arrest one of these Milanese agents, with whom he believed Florence 
to be teeming. 'lÌ1e prosecution admitted that Savonarola retracted the 
confessions made under torture, and these retractations are set down in 



1498J 


Tile trial qf Savonarola. 


35 


black and white. Not all of the Florentine comlnission were pronounced 
enemies; and of the two papal commissioners, the General of the 
Dominicans, Turriani, had, until Savonarola's final act of disobedience, 
been his consistent friend. l\Iore difficult is the question of the 
additions, alterations, and omissions attributed to the notary Ser Ceccone, 
a renegade; although, had this" editing" been absolutely unscrupulous, 
the confessions of the accused would have been more comproinising. 
The depositions of Frà Domenico, whether in their original form or in 
the official copy, bear out the general authenticity of the evidence, as 
do even those of the hysterical sonlnanlbulist Frà Silvestro, who was 
believed by many to be more knave than fool, and with whom, it was 
suspected, the less scrupulous leaders of the Piagnoni conducted their 
political correspondence. 
The Florentine cOffilnissioners directed the examination n1ainly to 
the gift of prophecy and political relations. It was essential to extort 
froin Sa vonarola a denial of his prophecies; for nothing ,vould so 
effectually alienate the large numbers who still silently clung to hitn. 
At first he stoutly asserted the divine origin of his gift, but under 
the strain of torture he broke down, and henceforth his answers were 
contradictory or confused. He was perhaps at war within himself on 
this mysterious subject, on which even his pulpit utterances are not 
consistent; in his agony of mind he now cried out that the spirit of 
prophecy had departed from him. The prosecution represented him as 
admitting that his alleged gift was an imposture, the result of an1bition, 
of the desire to be thought wise and holy. lIe strenuously denied that 
his prophecies were founded on confessions made to Frà Silvestro 
or himself. 'Vith regard to his interference in party politics the 
depositions of the three Friars ,vere very colourless. It was the wish 
of the governlnent to narrow the issue to San l\Iarco, and not to mark 
leading citizens out for popular vengeance. Even those who were 
arrested and tortured ,vere soon released. Not Savonarola's old aristo- 
cratic enen1ies, but the people were the most vindictive. Parenti, whose 
own opinions are typical of the changes in public feeling, affirms that, to 
satisfy the people and to save the heads of the Savonarola party, the 
government replaced four of the Friar's judges, who 111ight possibly be 
too favourable to his cause. The aristocracy could escape a revolution 
only by his condemnation. Valori and his associates, it was confessed, 
frequently visited the convent, as did other believers high and low; the 
Friars had heard their visitors speak of the prospects of the coming 
elections; their prayers had been sometimes asked in the cause of 
righteousness, but there had been nothing in the nature of an electoral 
organisation. Savonarola clearly avowed that he had supported the 
popular govenunent, but had not n1edd1ed with its workings. Both 
he and Frà Domenico nlentioned their design for a life-Gonfalonier or 
Doge. Their thoughts had naturally turned to Valori, but his violent and 
3-2 



36 


The t1
ial '!f Savona1.ola. 


[1498 


eccentric character made them hesitate; the excellent Giovanni Battista 
Ridolfi had been mentioned, but his large family connexÍon might lead 
to the predominance of a single house; Savonarola had protested against 
the tendency to fonn an oligarchical ring ,vi thin his party. In all this 
there ,vas no iUlplication of any political association, nothing to cOlnpel 
the Signoria to extend enquiry further. 
On the arrival of the papal conlmissioners the examination turned 
on Savonarola's appeal to a General Council; it was conducted chiefly 
by the Spanish lawyer Romolino, Bishop of Ilerda. Savonarola con.. 
fessed that, having no friend in Italy, he had turned to foreign princes, 
and especially to those of France and Spain: he hoped for the aid of 
Cardinals Brissonet and della Rovere, both enen1ies of the llorgia; 
1\fatthæus Lang, l\IaxÎ1nilian's confidential adviser (afterwards Bishop 
of Gurk and Cardinal), had spoken ill of Alexander in the Friar's 
presence, while the scandals of the Curia ,vere odious to the Spanish 
sovereigns who could influence the Cardinal of Lisbon. In vain the 
commissary pressed for evidence to hnplicate the Cardinal of NapIeR; 
for confessions extracted by torture were afterwards withdrawn. 'l
he 
victim declared that he had no wish to be Pope or Cardinal; his 
reward 'would be enough, if by his agency so glorious a ,vork as the 
refonu of the Church could be effected. 
Extorted and garbled as they ".ere, these depositions showed no 
proof, in Guicciardini's ,,,"ords, of any fault except alubition. And 
,,,ho can say that in his last agony Savonarola himself may not have 
been conscious of past Rinbition, of the parasite ,vhich clings 1110st 
closely to 1110nastic ,valls? Pride was the fault which frolu the first 
Alexander VI had fixed on his future enenlY. 
The result of the trial was less the condemnation of Savonarola than 
that of the popular government on ,vhich he had pinned his faith. It 
would be vain to seek under Medici or Albizzi so violent a strain on 
the constitution, so shalueless a disregard for individual rights. It was 
pitiful that the free constitution, the panacea against tyranny, should 
have been guilty of the worst crÏ1ne with which Florence can be charged. 
Of physical or political courage there was none, save in the sn1all band 
which in the heat of fight had held the convent. Only a short tÌ1ne 
before, the l\lilanese ambassador had 3.S.,urcd his luaster that Savonarola 
controlled the great nlajority of the town; yet 110'V no P'il1{!,'llone dared 
nlcntÌon his prophet in the streets. 1.
he Eight and the Ten were known 
to have Savonarolist sYlnpathies; in defiance of the most fundamental 
constitutional traditions, without even the pretence of a Balìa, they were 
dismissed before their office had expired. There was no protest froul 
these lawfully elected bodies, and none froin the Council which had 
given them their cOlumission. '\Then the new Sig1Wria was elected, the 
well-known Piaglwni were forcibly excluded; the qualification for office 
became cowardice or party hate. The Council itself suffered the garbled 



1498J 


TIle deatlt of Savonal'"ola. 


37 


depositions to be read, and did not insist on the appearance of the 
accused, because a Sig1loria, notoriously hostile, stated that he was 
voluntarily absent froin fear of stoning. In the Council and in the 
magistracies, Savonarola, as was afterwards proved, nlust have nu\nbereù 
hundreds of secret adherents. Yet one citizen only, Agnolo Niccolini, 
dared to suggest that death should be cOinmuted for perpetual Íll1prison- 
ment, so that posterity might not lose the fruits of the invaluable works 
which Savonarola might write in prison. The Florentine constitution 
was still a sh
lln; there was still 110 cOITespondence between real and 
nominal power; the mandatories of the people were swayed by a 
ferocious faction, as they had been swayed by a cool-headed dynasty. 
It is sln:111 wonder that the hybrid constitution withered in the first 
fierce heat; that when a few thousand falnished Spaniards rushed the 
walls of }")rato, two audacious youths dragged the chief magistrate of the 
li'lorentine Republic froln the Palazzo Pubblico, and condescendingly gave 
hinl their escort to his hOlne. 
In the sentence pronounced on May 
Q, 1498, Church and State 
concuITed. Savonarola and his conlpanions were declared heretics and 
schismatics, because they had denied that Alexander was true Pope and 
had compassed his deposition; because they had distorted Scripture 
and had revealed the secrets of the confessional under the pretext that 
they were vouchsafed by visions. Against the State they had sinned 
in causing the useless expenditure of countless treasure and the death 
of many innocent citizens, and in keeping the city divided against 
herself. Unity between the city and the Pope was no\v cOlnplete; 
Florence obtained the grant of three-tenths of Church revenues; the 
price, observed the Piagnoni, of them that sold innocent blood was 
three tilnes ten. Even to the three Friars Alexander sent his absolution. 
On the morrow came the end. Unfrocked and degraded by the 
Archbishops Suffragan, condemned as heretics and schismatics by the 
papal commissaries, Savonarola and his Brethren were handed over to 
the secular arm, the Eight, who passed the formal sentence. Led from 
the 1-inglÛera along a raised platform to the scaffold, they were hanged 
froln the gibbet, and when life was extinct the pile was lit. The boys 
of Florence stoned the bodies as they hung. Four years ago they had 
stoned Piero de' Medici; then, in an access of righteousness, they had 
stoned notorious sinners. No\v they stoned their prophet, and lastly 
they were to stone to death his executioner. The bodies were cut down 
into the flames, the ashes carefully collected and thrown into the Arno. 
'rhe Piazza had been thronged with onlookers, for whom balï
els were 
broached and food provided at governn1ent expense. For the crowd it 
was a vast municipal picnic; the burning of the Friars replaced the 
burning of the Vanities, even as this had superseded the fireworks and 
pageants of the l\Iedici. 



THE NE'V 'VORLD AND ITS GOLD 


(From volume I, chapter XV, "Economic Change," by 
JV. Cunning'hanl, D.D., Fellow if' Trinity College, Calnbridge) 
"rhe discovery of Aluerica by Colombo gave the Spaniards acce
s to 
an enormous territory of which they,vere complete nlasters, and which 
they 'were free to develop on any lines that seemed good to thenl. It is 
110 part of our present purpose to discuss by itself the colonial policy 
which the monarchs followed; we have rather to consider the aims pursued 
by them for their enlpire as a whole. The large Inass of bullion that 
,vas Ï1nported, together with the great comn1ercial opportunities that were 
opened up, exercised a renlarkable influence upon econolnic conditions in 
the peninsula. 'rhe anlount of gold and silver which the Spaniards 
acquired was quite unprecedented, and nlight have been used to forn1 
a very large capital indeed. 'I'he 'Vest India islands supplied increasing 
quantities of gold from the time of their discover:y until 1516. In 15Q2 
the exploitation of l\Iexico began; sil vel' was acquired in greater and 
greater masses, and the introduction, in 1557, of a simpler process of 
reduction of the ore by means of quicksilver dinlinished the cost of 
production and still farther augmented the yield of bunion. In 1533 
the Spaniards also obtained access to Peru, from ,vhich additional 
supplies of silver were procured. Altogether, an enormous stream of 
bullion poured into Spain during the ,vhole of the sixteenth century. 
'I'he Spaniards were able to rely on the best possible advice as to the 
organisation of business of every kind. Genoese financiers were ready 
to give every assistance, and the South-German capitalists, who had 
so lnuch experience of Inining and enterprise of every sort, ,vere closely 
attached to the interests of Charles V; after his accession to the throne 
of Spain they were attracted to that country in large numbers, as great 
privileges were conferred upon them. 'l-'hey ,vere able to take part 
in colonisation, and to engage directly in nJÌning. The Fuggers 
undertook to develop the quicksilver deposits of Almaden; they formed 
business connexions in the New lVorld, and founded settlelnents in 
Peru. The Welsers established a colony in Venezuela, and undertook 
copper-mining in San Donlingo. 'l"here was at the same tÌlne an 
incursion, chiefly to Seville, of other German capitalists, who were 
prepared to devote their energies to df veloping the industrial arts 
of Spain. 'Vith all these material and technical advantages it seems 
extraordinary that the dreams of Charles V and Philip II were not 
realised, and that they failed to build up such a military power as 
would have enabled them to establish a complete supremacy in 
Europe. 
It would be exceedingly interesting if we were able to examine in 
detail the extent to which the precious metals came into circulation in 
Spain, and the precise course of economic affairs in different parts of the 



Spain and tlte accu.mulation of t1 1 easure. 3D 


country; but the Inat
rial for such an enquiry does not appear to be 
forthcoming. Yet one thing is obvious; the Spanish colonists devoted 
themselves almost entirely to mining for the precious luetals, and they 
were largely dependent for their supply of food of all kinds on the 
nlother country. This caused an increased demand for corn in Spain 
and a rapid rise of prices there, as the colonists were able to pay large 
sums for the necessaries of life. Charles V, indeed, endeavoured to carry 
out works of irrigation, and to increase the food-supply by bringing a 
larger area under cultivation. But tillage could not be developed so as 
to meet the new demands. The methods of cultivation already in vogue 
were as high as was generally practicable in the ex.isting state of society; 
the vine- and olive-growers on the one hand, and the pasture-farmers on 
the other, resented anyencroachnlents on the land at their disposal, so that 
it was impossible to bring a larger area under crop. So powerful were 
the A/esta, a great corporation of sheep-farmers, that they were actually 
able in 155
 to insist that Crown- and Church-land which had been 
brought under tillage should revert to pasture. The result was in- 
evitable; food became dearer, and the government was forced to recognise 
the fact by raising the 'lnaximurn IÏ1nit of price; as a consequence, the 
necessary outlay of all classes increased, while a large part of the popu- 
lation were not compensated by the profit obtained through the new 
facilities for trade. 
D nder ordinary circumstances the increase in the price of food would 
have been merely injurious to industry; it would necessitate a larger out- 
lay in the expenses of production, and would leave less margin for profit, 
and no opportunity for the formation of capital. Ultimately, this seems 
to have been the effect on Spanish manufactures, and the high cost of 
production in the peninsula rendered it possible for other European 
countries, where the range of prices was lower, to undersell the Spanish 
producer in the home market. No serious attempt was maùe by the 
government to check this tendency, as the policy pursued was in the 
lllain that of favouring the consumer, and protective tariffs were not 
introduced. 
The circumstances which prevailed in Spain at the opening of the 
sixteenth century were, however, quite exceptional, and as a lllatter of 
fact there seen1S to have been a considerable, though short-lived, develop- 
ment of industry. The colonists not only imported their food, but 
Inanufactures as well; there was a sudden increase in the demand both 
for textile goods and for hardware, to meet the American requirements, 
and of course there was a great rise of prices. The small independent 
masters, working on the old industrial system, were unable to cope with 
this new state of affairs; but the foreign capitalists saw their opportunity. 
l\IaIiufacturing of every kind was organised on a large scale at Toledo 
and other centres; wages rose enormously, and a great influx of popula- 
tion was attracted into the city. This was doubtless drawn to some 



40 Spain and tIle accu7Jlulation of treasure. 


extent from tþ.e rural districts; but the stream must have been con- 
siderably auglnented by the Ï1nmigration of French and Italians. Hence 
it appears that this rapid industrial development was merely an 
excrescence, which had no very deep attachment to the country; the 
Spaniards themselves appear to have regarded it as an intrusion, and 
to have resented it accordingly. The Spanish gentry had no means 
of paying the increased prices which the colonial demand had occa- 
sioned, for natural economy was still in vogue in many rural districts. 
Indeed, this revolution in industry must have given rise to many 
social grievances; the craftsluan of the old school would suffer from 
the competition of the capitalist in his own trade, while the great 
rise of prices to consumers was attributed to the greed of the foreigner. 
The government was persuaded to pass measures which imposed dis- 
abilities on foreign capitalists; it succeeded in forcing the withdrawal 
of the French and Italian "rOrknlen, as w"ell as in expelling the :ðlorisco8. 
As these changes ensued, the foreign capitalists were doubtless successful 
in transferring large portions of their capital to other lands; but the 
decline of alien competition on Spanish soil did not enable native 
manufacturers to take their place or to recover the lost ground. 'Yith 
the new scale of outlay they had little opportunity for forming capital, 
and the bourgeois class may not have had the skill for organising 
business on the new lines. On the whole it appears that the large 
colonial demands for food on the one hand, and the large supplies of 
foreign manufactures on the other, prevented a healthy reaction of 
commercial on agricultural and industrial development; Spain W'RS left 
exhausted by the feverish activity which had been temporarily induced, 
and ,,'hich passed away. 
The Spanish government ,\ras firlnly convinced that the best means 
of promoting the power of the country "ras by hoarding the large share 
of the produce of the mines which came into thcir possession, and they 
made frequent efforts to prevent the export of any bullion into other 
parts of Europe, though the GCl10ese and Genuan capitalists had special 
licenses which allowed them to translnit it. It is obviously impossible 
that the government could have succeeded in enforcing this prohibi- 
tion, under the existing conditions of trade; most of the bullion which 
arrived at Seville belonged to the merchants and manufacturers who were 
concerned in supplying the colonial delnand for goods. The.ingots which 
were not taken to the mint may have been hoarded for a time; but the 
foreign capitalists 'would not allow their money to lie idle, and D1uch of 
it DlUSt have been exported, in spite of all laws to the contrary, to pay 
for the cheaper manufactures which were coming in from abroad. 
Conlparatively little coin could have passed into general circulation in 
Spain itself; paYlnents from the towns for agricultural produce would 
scarcely overbalance the payments due from the country for the dearer 
manufactured goods. 



The gains of the Dutch. 


41 


The Spanish rulers had ignorantly and unintentionally pursued 
the precise course of policy recOIn mended by 1\lachiavelli. They had 
souO'ht to accumulate treasure in the coffers of the State, and they 
had b by their Inistaken 111easures allo\vèd the 
u qjects to continue poor. 
r-l'he wealth which passed into the country had no steady and persistent 
reaction on industrial and agricultural life; and when the military 
exigencies of Philip's policy reduced him to bankruptcy, it became 
obvious to the world that the Spaniards had completely misused the 
unique opportunities which lay within their grasp. They had sacri6ced 
everything else to the accumulation of treasure by the Crown, and they 
had completely failed to attain the one object on which they had 
concentrated all their eHorts. 
The permanent gain froln the treasure imported into Europe went to 
those countries which were able to employ it as capital for industrial 
or agricultural improvement, and Spain could do neither. There was 
every prospect, at one time, that the greatest advantage would be reaped 
by Spanish subjects in the Netherlands. rl'he policy of the government, 
however, and the failure of the Duke of Alva to recognise the importance 
of trading interests, rendered this impossible. The 'Var in the Low 
Countries not only caused the nligration of industry from that part of 
Spanish territory, but tended to bring about the collapse of the great 
capitalists who had allied thenlselves to the Spanish interest. The 
foreigners were being gradually excluded from taking any direct part 
in the new industrial developnlents in Spain; they confined themselves 
nlore Hnd more to banking business, and to financial operations in the 
government service. But the persistent failure of the Spanish and 
imperial policy in one country after another had the effect of crippling 
several of the great Genoese and German houses, and at length drained 
the resources even of such millionaires as the }"uggers. The decline of 
these bankers proved that the control of the treasure of the New 'V orId 
was passing into other hands; as a matter of fact it was shifting more 
and more into the possession of the Dutch, who were making their 
country a harbour of refuge for persons expelled from the Spanish 
Netherlands, and who ,vere building up a great centre of commercial 
and industrial life at Amsterdaln. At the beginning of the seventeenth 
century the people of IIollalld had succeeded in 'winning the greater part 
of the gains which accrued from the Portuguese discoveries, while they 
had also succeeded in drawing to themselves a large share of the treasure 
of Spanish America, and in using it 9.8 capital in commerce, in shipping, 
und in industrial pursuits. It was the nemesis of the policy of his 
Catholic l\Iajesty that his subjects failed to derive real advantage from 
the much vaunted American possessions, and that the gains which Inight 
haye enriched the peninsula went to his bitterest enemies. 



l\IARTIN LUTI-IER AND THE DIE'r OF \VORl\IS 


(From volume II, chapter IV, "Luther," by T. .11I. Lindsa.y, D.D., 
Principal w. the Glasgow Colleß'e of tlte United Free Church of Scotland) 
'l"he Appeal To the Christian Nobility W tlte German Nation made 
the greatest inn11ediate hnpression. ContcInporaries called it a trulnpet 
blast. It was a call to all Gennany to unite against ROIne. It was 
written in haste, but Iuust have been long meditated upon. Luther 
wrote the introduction on the 
3rd of June (15
0); the printers 
worked as he wrote; it was finished and published about the n1Ìddlc of 
August, and by the 18th of the lnonth 4000 copies had gone into all 
parts of Gernlany and the printers could not supply the delnand. This 
Appeal was the nlanifesto of a revolution sent forth by a true leader 
of lnen, able to concentrate the attack and direct it to the ellelny's 
one vital spot. It grasped the whole situation; it summed up with 
vigour and directness all the grievances which had hitherto been stated 
separately and weakly; it elnbodied every proposal of reform, however 
incomplete, and set it in its proper place in one combined scheme. 
All the parts "rerc ,velded together by a silnple and direct religious 
faith, and made living by the moral earnestness which pervaded the 
whole. 
Reform had been inlpossible, the Appeal says, because the wall'S 
behind which ROl1le lay entrenched had been left standing-walls of 
straw and paper, but in appearance formidable fortifications. If the 
telnporal Powers delnanded reforms, they ,,,"ere told that the Spiritual 
Power was superior and controlling. If the Spiritual Power itself ,vas 
attacked from the side of Scripture, it was affirmed that no one could 
say what Scripture really meant but the Pope. If a Council was called 
for to make the reform, men ,vere informed that it ,vas ilnpossible to 
summon a Council without the leave of the Pope. Now this pretended 
Spiritual Power which made reform impossible was a delusion. The 
only real spiritual power existing belonged to the whole body of 
believers in virtue of the spiritual priesthood bestowed upon them by 
Christ Hin1self. The clergy,vere distinguished from the laity, not by 
an indelible character itnposed upon them in a divine mystery called 
ordination, but because they were set in the comrnonwealth to do a 
particular work. If they neglected the '" ork they ,vere there to do, 
the clergy were accountable to the same temporal Powers which ruled 
the land. The statelnent that the Pope alone can interpret Scripture 
is a foolish one; the Holy Scripture is open to all, and can be 
interpreted by all true believers who have the mind of Christ and COlne 
to the Word of God hUlnbly and really seeking enlightenment. "\tVhen 
a Council is needed, every individual Christian has a right to do his 



1520] 


Attack' upon tlie R01Jzan C/lurclt. 


43 


best to get it sumnloned, and the telnporal Powers are there to represent 
and enforce his wishes. 
'l-'he straw walls having been cleared away, the Appeal proceeds with 
an indicÌlnent against Itolne. There is in Ronle one who calls 
hiulself the Yicar of Christ and whose life has small resemblance to 
that of our Lord ànd St Peter; for this man wears a triple crown 
(a single one docs not content him), and keeps up such a state 
that he requires a larger personal revenue than the Emperor. He 
has surrounding him a nUlnber of men called Cardinals, whose only 
apparent use is to draw to themselves the revenues of the richest 
convents and benefices and to spend this money in keeping up the state 
of a wealthy lIlonarch in Rome. In this way, and through other 
holders of Ge1'lllan benefices who live as hangers-on at the papal court, 
Home takes fronl Germany a SHIll of 300,000 gulden annually,-more 
than is paid to the EIuperor. ROine robs Germany in many other ways, 
ll10st of then1 fraudulent-annates, absolution llloney, &c. The chicanery 
used to get possession of GenTIan benefices; the exactions on the 
bestowal of the palliurn; the trafficking in exemptions and permissions 
to evade laws 
cclesiastical and moral, are all trenchantly described. 
The plan of reform sketched includes the conlplete abolition of the 
supremacy of the Pope over the State; the creation of a national German 
Church with an ecclesiastical national Council, to be the final court of 
appeal for Germany and to represent the German Church as the Diet did 
the German State; son1e internal religious reforms, such as the limitation 
of the number of pilgrimages, which are destroying morality and creating 
in lnen a distaste for honest work; reductions in the mendicant Orders, 
which are mere incentives to a life of beggary; the inspection of all 
convents and nunneries and permission given to those who are dissatisfied 
with their monastic lives to return to the world; the lÌ1nitation of 
ecclesiastical festivals which are too often nothing but scenes of gluttony, 
drunkenness, and debauchery; a Illarried priesthood and an end put to 
the universal and degrading concubinage of the German parish priests. 
rThe Appeal closes with SOUle solenln words addressed to the luxury and 
licensed imll10rality of the cities. 
None of Luther's writings produced such an instantaneous, wide- 
spread, and powerful effect as did this Appeal. It went circulating all 
over Gel'lnany, uniting all classes of society in a way hitherto unknown. 
It was an effectual antidote, so far as the majority of the German people 
was concerned, to the Bull of Excomm
nication which had been prepared 
in Rome by Cajetan, Prierias, and Eck, and had been published there in 
June, 15920. Eck was entrusted with the publication of the Bull in 
Germany, where it did not command much respect. It had been drafted 
by men who had been Luther's opponents, and suggested the gratification 
of private animosity rather than calm judicial examination and rejection 
of heretical opinion. The feeling grew stronger when it was discovered 



44: 


IJ ull of EXC01JIlllUnlcatio71. 


[1520 


that Eck, having received the power to do so, had inserted the names of 
Adelmann, Pirkheimer, Spengler, and Carlstadt along with that of 
Luther-all five personal enemies. The Gennan Bishops seelncd to be 
unwilling to allow the publication of the Bull within their districts. 
Later the publication becanlc dangerous, so threatening was the attitude 
of the crowds. Luther, on his part, burnt the Bull publicly; and 
electrified Germany by the deed. ROlne had now done its utmost to get 
rid of Luther by way of ecclesiastical repression. If he was to be over- 
thrown, if the new religious movenlent and the national uprising which 
enclosed it, were to be stifled, this could only be done by the aid of the 
highest secular power. r-rhe ROlnan Curia turned to the Elnperor. 
l\faximilian had died suddenly on the 1Qth of January, 151D. After 
SOlne nlonths of intriguing, the papal diplonlacy being very tortuous, 
his grandson, Charles V, the young King of Spain, was unaninlously 
chosen to be his successor (June Q8). rrroubles in Spain prevented 
him froln leaving that country at once to take possession of his new 
dignities. He was crowned at Aachen on the 
3rd of October, 15QO, 
and opened his first GenTIan Diet on January QQ, 15
1. 
The proceedings of this Diet were of great importance apart from its 
relation to Luther; but to the common people of Gennany, to the papal 
Nuncios, Aleander and Caraccioli, and to the foreign envoys, the issues 
raised by Luther's revolt against !{Olne were the matter
 of absorbing 
interest. Girolamo Aleander had been specially selected by Pope Leo X 
to secure Luther's condemnation by the Emperor. lIe was a cultivated 
Churchman, who knew Germany well, and had been in intimate relations 
with many of the German humanists. IIis despatches and those of the 
envoys of England, Spain, and Venice \vitness to the extraordinary 
excitenlent among the people of all classes. Aleander had been in 
Germany ten years earlier, and had found no people so devoted to the 
Papacy as the Germans. Now all things were changed. The legion 
of poor nobles, the German lawyers and canonists, the professors and 
students, the nlen of learning and the poets, ,vere all on Luther's side. 
l\Iost of the monks, a large portion of the clergy, many of the Bishops, 
supported Luther. His friends had the audacity to establish a printing- 
press in ,V onns, whence issued quantities of the forbidden \\Titings, 
which were hawked about in the market-Place, on the streets, and even 
within the Emperor's palace. These books were eagerly bought and 
read with avidity; large prices were sometimes given for them. 
Aleander could not induce the Emperor to consent to Luther's 
immediate condemnation. Charles must have felt the difficulties of the 
situation. His position as head of the Holy Roman Empire, the 
traditional policy of the Habsburg family, his own deeply rooted 
personal convictions, which found outcome in the brief statement read 
to the Princes on the day after Luther's appearance, all go to prove that 
he had not the slightest sympathy with the Refonner and that he had 



1521] 


Luther at the Diet qf TVorlns. 


4.5 


resolved that he should be condcmned. But the Diet"s consent was 
necessary before the imperial ban could be issued; and besides Charles 
had his own bargain to make with the Pope, and this mattcr of Luther 
might help hiln to n1ake a good one. The Diet resolved that Luther 
should be heard; a safe-conduct was sent along with the sumlnons to 
attend; Luther travelled to "T onns in what seelned like a triumphal 
procession to the angry partisans of the Pope; and on A pril 16th he 
appeared before Charles and the Diet. He entered smiling, says 
Aleander; he looked blowly round the assembly and his face became 
grave. On a table near where he was placed there was a pile of books. 
1.
wenty-fi\"e of Luther's writings had been hastily collected by command 
of the Elnperor and placed there. 1.ne procedure was entrusted to 
John Eck, the Official of Trier (to be distinguished from John Eck 
of Ingolstadt), a man in whom Aleander had much confidence and who 
was lodged, he sa:ys significantly, in the chamber next his. Luther was 
asked whether the books before him were of his authorship (the names 
were read over to him), and whether he would retract what he had 
written in them. He answered, acknowledging the books, but asked for 
time to consider how to reply to the second question. He was granted 
delay till the following day; and retired to his lodging. 
'"The evening and the night were a time of terrible depression, conflict, 
despair, and prayer. Before the dawn came the victory had been won, 
and he felt in a great calm. He was sent for in the evening (April 18), 
the streets were so thronged that his conductors had to take him by 
obscure passages to the Diet. There was the same table with the same 
pile of books. This time Luther was ready with his answer, and his 
voice had recovered its clear musical note. When asked whether, 
having acknowledged the books to be his, he was prepared to defend 
them or to withdraw them, he replied at SOlne length. In substance, it 
was, that his books were not all of the same kind; in some he had 
written on faith and morals in a way approved by all, and that it was 
needless to retract what friends and foes alike approved of; others were 
,vritten against the Papacy, a system which by teaching and example 
was ruining Christendom, and that he could not retract these writings; 
as for the rest, he was prepared to adlnit that he might have been more 
violent in his charges than becalne a Christian, but still he was not 
prepared to retract them either; but he was ready to listcn to anyone 
who could show that he had erred. The speech was repeated in Latin 
for the benefit of the Emperor. Then Charles told him through Eck that 
he was not there to question matters which had been long ago decided and 
settled by General Councils, and that he must answer plainly whether 
he meant to retract what he had said contradicting the decisions of the 
Council of Constance. Luther answered that he must be convinced by 
Holy Scripture, for he knew that both Pope and Councils had erred; his 
conscience was fast bound to Holy Scripture, and it was neither safe nor 



46 


Conllel1znation qf Luther. 


[1521 


honest to act against conscience. This was said In German and in 
Latin. The Emperor asked him, through Eck, whether he actually 
believed that a General Council could err. Luther replied that he did, 
and could prove it. Eck was about to begin a discussion, but Charles 
interposed. His interest was evidently confined to the one point of a 
General Council. Luther was dismissed, the crowd followed hiIn, and a 
Dum bel" of the followers of the Elector of Saxony accompanied him. 
Aleander tells us that as he left the audience hall he raised his hand in 
the fashion of the Gennan soldier who had struck a good stroke. He 
had struck his stroke, and left the hall. 
Next day Charles met the princes, and read then1 a paper in which 
he had written his own opinion of what ought to be done. The Germans 
pleaded for delay and negotiations ,vith Luther. This was agreed to, 
and meetings were held in hopes of arriving at a conference. A 
commission of eight, representing the Electors, the nobles, and the 
cities, ,vas appointed to Ineet with Luther. They were all sincerely 
anxious to arrive at a working con1promise; but the negotiations were 
in vain. The Emperor's assertion of the infallibility of a General 
Council, and Luther's phrase, a conscience fast bound to the Holy 
Scripture, could not be welded together by any diplomacy however 
sincere. The Word of God was to Luther a living voice speaking to 
his own soul; it was not to be stifled by the decisions of any Council ; 
Luther was ready to lay down his life, rather than accept any com- 
pron1ise which endangered the Christian liberty which came to men by 
justifying faith. 
The negotiations having failed, the Dan of the Empire was pro- 
nounced against Luther. It was dated on the day on which Charles 
concluded his secret treaty ,vith Pope Leo X, -as if to make clear to the 
Pope the price which he paid for the condemnation of the Reformer. 
Luther was ordered to quit ,V orms on A pril 
6th, and his safe-conduct 
protected him for twenty days, and no longer. At their expiration he 
was liable to be seized and destroyed as a pestilent heretic. On his 
journey homewards he was captured by a band of soldiers and taken 
to the Castle of the 'Vartburg by order of the Elector of Saxony. 
This was his" Patnlos," where he was to be kept in safety until the 
troubles were over. His disappearance did not mean that he was no 
longer a great leader of men; but it marks the time when the Lutheran 
revolt merges in national opposition to ROlne. 



THE SPANISH ARMADA 


(From volume Ill, chapter IX, "The Elizabethan Þlaval JVar with 
Spain," by J. K. La'ltghton, .J/.A., Professor of Modern History, 
King's College, London) 
Immediately the Armada put to sea, its troubles began. The 
weather was boisterous; and the ships, built and rigged for fine weather 
passages, with a fair, equable wind, to or from the West Indies, were 
overn1asted and undermanned. 'The sealnen were also of very in- 
different quality, being, in great measure, mere fair-weather sailors. 
The ships made very bad weather, were strained, leaked excessively; 
son1e were disn1asted, all were reduced to a deplorable condition, which 
the sea-sick soldiers thought worse than it really was. Their victuals, 
too, failed: the bread was mouldy, the meat was putrid, the water- 
casks-made of green staves-leaked, and the water ran short. Sickness 
broke out among the men, and Medina Sidonia considered hÌ1nself lucky 
in getting the bulk of his fleet safely into Corunna, where he anchored 
on June 9, but in such distress and confusion that he made no general 
signal, and took 110 pains to let distant ships know what he was doing; 
so that many kept on their way to the appointed rendezvous, south of 
the Scilly Islands, whence they were recalled, but not before they had 
been seen and reported, on June 19, by some English traders. He was 
not able to sail again till July 19!. 
l\leantime Howard, with the English fleet at Plymouth, had been 
very anxious to visit the coast of Spain and work such havoc among 
the enemy's shipping that their design would have to be again postponed, 
if not altogether abandoned. This seemed particularly easy when it was 
known that they were congregated in the harbour of Corunna; and it 
now appears quite certain that an onslaught there, such as Drake had 
made at Cadiz the previous year, guided by the experience then gained 
and supported by a few fire-ships, would have utterly ruined the Spanish 
navy. But Elizabeth would not allow the attempt to be made. She 
professed to doubt whether the Aru1ada was really cOIning; she affected 
to consider that the differences between the two nations n1Ïght be settled 
by negotiation. Whether she hoped to hood wink Philip, or ,vhether 
she imagined that, if not further provoked, he would allow the war 
to conduct itself in the same semi-private, piratical, and economical 
way as during the last ten years, it is impossible to say; or may be 
she really believed that the danger of missing the Annada was too 
great; that if it had already put to sea it might be stretching to the 
westward while the English were crossing the Bay of Biscay; and lnight, 
without opposition, come into the Channel and off Dunkirk, while 



48 


The English fleet at Plyrlloutll. 


[1588 


Howard or Drake was searching the Spanish coast frOlTI Corunna to 
Cadiz. She turned a deaf ear to the arguments of Howard and his 
council of war, and peremptorily ordered him not to go beyond 
U shant. 
Another and very pressing anxiety that filled Howard's mind was the 
frequently OcculTing want of victuals. r:rhere was no public store ready 
to hand; and the sudden call to supply a force numbering some 15,000 
men taxed the energies of the victualling agents. By the utmost 
economy and putting the men on short allowance he managed to get 
together what might be called a private stock against. an emergency; 
but whilst in the Narrow Sea, and afterwards, at PlYlTIouth, he never 
ceased urging on the Queen's ministers the necessity for liberal supplies. 
It docs not appear that there was any undue sparing of expense, though 
there was, of course, a strict attention to economy; but it was impossible 
to provide the larger supplies which IIoward demanded. The practice, 
so far as there was one, was to send at one tin1e victuals for four weeks, 
and to replenish them by another supply for four w'eeks about a ,veek 
before the earlier supply ,\.as exhausted. 'fhere ,vas thus, as Ho,vard 
pointed out, the continually recurring danger of the fleet being obliged 
to put to sea, in presence of the enemy, with not more than a few days' 
victuals on board. 'rhis was what did actually happen. The fleet had 
been out, spreading in a long line from Ushant to Scilly, when a fresh 
southerly wind blew it back to Plyn1outh. The victuals were running 
low and the ships busy provisioning, when, on July 19, the Armada 
was reported off the Lizard. The same southerly wind which drove the 
English fleet in, had carried the Spanish straight across the Bay of 
Biscay. The fresh breeze had, however, been too much for them. The 
ships were scattered; many had parted company, and it was not till 
the next day, July 20, that they had nearly all rejoined. 
In accordance with the custom very generally followed in an age 
when the commander-in-chief of a fleet was often regarded as a president 
and n10derator rather than as actual commander, and especially necessary 
under the conditions existing EUTIOng the Spaniards, a council of war was 
held, but "Tas unable to decide anything for want of intelligence. i\ 
proposal to look into Plymouth and attack the English fleet came to 
nothing, because it was not kno,vn whether it was there or not. In the 
afternoon they sa'v some ships under the land, but the weather was thick, 
with rain and mist, and they could not make out either their nun1ber or 
quality. It was not till night had fallen that one of the pinnaces picked 
up an English boat, and the Duke learned fron1 the prisoners that the 
English fleet had been at Plymouth but had got to sea that afternoon. 
Their ships had, in fact, warped out into the Sound on the evening of 
the 19th; on the 
Oth they had plied out, to windward, against a fresh 
south-westerly breeze; and the Arluarla, running to the eastward all 
night, had by daybreak on the 
l
t given the English the weather-gage 



1588] 


Superi01'"ity oj tIle Ellglislt ships_ 


49 


for which they had been working. 'The fleet with IIoward at this time 
consisted of about :seventy ships, a large proportion of which were snlall 
coasting vessels, useful as cruisers, as scouts, or to carry messages, but of 
little fighting value. 'rhirty of them belonged to the Queen; and of 
these, thirteen, though on the average slnaller than the best of the 
Spaniards, were more hea viI y anned. Some seven or eight more were 
good and efficient ships, of a smaller size, but still heavily armed in 
comparison with the Spanish ships; and about a dozen or twenty of the 
merchantmen were sufficiently large and well armed to be able to take 
part in an engagement. 'fhis estimate shows the nunl bel' of fighting 
ship
 in the two fleets to have not been very unequal; those on each side 
being superior to those of the enemy froln their own special point of 
,,.iew; though, indeed, if the Spaniards could have dictated the Il1anner 
of fighting, they would have had upwards of sixty effective ships, and 
their superiority would have been overwhelming. They themselves 
thought that it was; and what they believed was the general belief 
throughout Europe. In reality, the superiority to which they trusted 
was more than nullified by the hopeless inferiority of their ships and 
their seamen; it depended entirely on their being able to close with and 
grapple the English ships, and this they could never succeed in doing. 
The English ships of the new design had finer lines and were much 
faster; they were lower in the water, and were stiffer and more weatherly; 
they were rigged and were manned by sealnen accustomed to the 
boisterous weather of the higher latitudes. The choice of the fighting 
rested with them; and with that, also the superiority. The Spanish ships 
were so crank that, in a fresh breeze, their weather guns sent their shot 
flying through empty space or their lee guns plumped them into the sea, 
whilst the English, on a more even keel, racked the Spaniards through and 
through below the water line on the one side, or swept their decks with 
a murderous hail on the other. 'They could take their own distance; 
and, when the Spaniards tried to close, could slip away from them with 
an ease that astonished and terrified their enelny. 
At the first nleeting of the two fleets on the forenoon of July !21 all 
this was at once apparent. 'ro Drake and many of the others it was no 
new thing, though it is probable that even they had not realised how 
vast their advantage was. The fight continued froln nine o'clock to 
about one, when l\Iedina Sidonia, discovering that it was only wasting 
time, and that he was bound to avoid all delay, lllade sail before the 
wind. It was a fatal mistake-one .we may be sure that Santa Cruz 
would not have made. tIe Inight not, probably would not, have been 
able to neutralise the vast superiority of the English ships and the 
Engli
h method of fighting; but it is not conceivable that a man of his 
experience would have jUlnbled the transports, store-ships, and fighting 
ships in one heterogeneous crowd, or would ha,-e sought a pretext of 
flying before the enelny froln a half-finished battle. As it was, the 
4: 



50 


71le .tlre-8/lips at CalaÙ,.. 


[1588 


fighting on July Ql gave the keynote to all that followed. 'l"he Armada 
was to hurry Oll. The flag-ship of Pedro de Valdes, which had suffered 
severely in the engagement, lost her foremast by a collision ,vith another 
of her squadron and fell astern. But time could not be wasted in 
defending the noblest ship in the fleet; she was deserted and fell into 
the hands of the English. Another, the vice-admiral of Oquendo's 
squadron, ,vas disabled by an accidental explosion of powder; she, too, 
was deserted, was taken by the English and sent to 'Veymouth. And 
ever the Arn1ada sailed heavily on with a fresh fair wind, the English 
following, ready to seize on any stragglers, or to fight if opportunity 
offered. There was thus a Slllart action off St Alban's Head on the 
3rd, 
and another on the 25th off St Catherine's in the Isle of \Vight, as a 
visible result of which a third large ship, Recalde's flag-ship, was so 
damaged as to be obliged to leave the fleet and nlake for the French 
coast, where-in trying to go into the Seine-she ran ashore and became 
a total ,vreck. Other ships had suffered much, both in n1aterial damage 
and in men; and ,vithout further fighting the Armada ran on to Calais, 
off ,vhich they anchored on the afternoon of the 
7th. 
The Duke then sent a message to Parma, urging him to embark at 
once; but the tone of his letter implied that he expected Parma to help 
and protect the fleet, rather than that the fleet was prepared to ensure a 
safe passage to Parma. Parma's reply, which came on the 
8th, was 
unsatisfactory. He was not ready to embark and could not be so in less 
than a fortnight; but even if he had been ready he could not have started 
till the Dutch flotilla was out of the way. If Medina Sidonia would 
clear the sea of Count Justin, Seymour, Howard, and all the rest of them, 
it would then be time to think of crossing over to England. The report 
of this answer and all that it implied added to the discouragement which 
the week's experience had impressed on the Spaniards. They had started 
jubilant in the expectation of a triumphant advance up the Channel and 
across the North Sea frolll the Low Countries. The reality had been one 
succession of disasters and of battles, in which they had suffered terribly 
without appearing to have inflicted any loss on their nimble assailants. 
And the numbers of the enemy were increasing. 
Iany small vessels had 
joined the English fleet on its course up Channel; and, as Howard 
anchored off Calais, a gunshot to windward of the Spaniards, Seymour, 
with his squadron, rejoined, adding three capital ships to the fighting 
power. There were thus in the English fleet, of Queen's ships and 
merchantmen, from forty to forty-five that could be considered effective 
men-of-war-a fair match, so far as armament went, for the best forty 
or forty-five Spaniards, but in reality very superior, by reason of their 
mobility, steadiness, and gunnery; qualities which, though too late, the 
Spaniards ,vere beginning to appreciate and fear. Their nerves were 
ah
eady unstrung, when, about midnight of the 28th, eight hastily impro- 
vised fire-ships came down 011 them with wind and tide. As they burst 



1588] 


TIle battle qf Gravelines. 


C:)1 


into flames, J.\tIedina Sidonia made the signal to slip the cables, intending 
to return in the daylight and take up his old berth. But a panic seized 
the Spaniards. "The fire-ships of Antwerp!" they cried, and, cutting 
their cables, they drifted away to the north. They were, for the time, 
paralysed with fear. vVhen morning came they were off Gravelines, 
closely followed by the English Beet, which now attacked in its full force, 
knowing that this was the crisis of the calnpaign. The Armada must be 
driven into the North Sea, past the coast of Flanders, beyond the reach 
of Parma. Seymour and Wynter, Drake, Hawkins, and Fi'obisher led the 
several attacks; Howard, who had waited off Calais to ensure the capture 
or destruction of the adlniral of the galleasses, the most hea viI y arnled 
ship in the Armada, came up a little later. This galleass had injured her 
rudder in the confusion of the night, and in the morning was captured 
after a stubborn and hand-to-hand fight, in which her commander, Hugo 
de l\loncada, was killed. The French, who had not interfered during 
the fight, now claimed the prize; and Howard, satisfied with her being 
lost to the Spaniards, left her, and joined the main battle, which raged 
fiercely during the greater part of the day. 
But the superiority of the English was felt frOln the first, and the 
want of tactical guiding was as marked in the Spanish fleet as its many 
other shortcomings. The wind was at S.S. W. and the Annada had 
streamed off before it. The Duke made no real effort to collect the 
effective ships, lTIany of which were far to leeward; and the brunt of the 
battle fell on some fifteen which clustered round their admiral, and fought 
valiantly but without avail. Of recorded incidents much nlight be 
written; we have them in Spanish and in English, but all to the same 
effect: the Spanish ships could not close with the English, and against 
the English guns the Spanish guns were powerless. Some sentences from 
Medina Sidonia's letter to the King put this in the clearest light. " In 
the rear, Don Francisco de Toledo (in the San Felipe) abode the coming 
of the enemy and endeavoured to grapple with them; whereupon they 
assailed him, and by shooting of ordnance brought hÎ1n to great 
extremity. Don Diego Pimentel (in the San J.1/ateo) can1e to relieve 
him and both were hardly pressed; seeing which, J uan 
Iartinez de 
Recalde came to their assistance, with Don Augustin l\Iexía, and rescued 
theln from this strait. But llotwi thstanding this, these ships returned 
and again assaulted the enemy; as likewise did Don Alonso de Luzon, and 
the Santa .J..
/aria de Begoña, in which was Garibay, and the San Juan de 
Sicilia, in which was Don Diego Tel1
z Enriquez. These came near to 
boarding the enen1Y, yet could they not grapple with them; they fighting 
with their great ordnance, and our men defending themselves with 
harquebuss-fire and musketry, the distance being very small." 
"'hen-partly from want of ammunition, partly from hopeless 
incapacity-the largest Spanish ships were reduced to answering great 
guns with harquebusses, it is not surprising that the Spaniards suffered 
4-2 



52 


Ðçfeat of the Spaniards. 


[1588 


very much, the English not at all; or that, after this terrible pounding, 
the San Felipc and the San J..lfateo tried to save themselves by running 011 
shore on the coast of Flanders. The officers and 1110st of the crew of the 
$'an j,"clijJC escaped to Nieuport, but the ship was taken posscssion uf by 
the Dutch and carried into l?lushing; so also was thc San J.lf atco, after a 
stubborn resistance which ended in the officers being taken prisoners and 
the 111en thrown overboard. Other ships ,vent do,vn ,vith all hands; 
ho,,, nlallY was never exactly known; so Il1any in all ,vere ultilnately Jost 
that the details were never fully Inade out. By nightfall the Spaniards 
were thoroughly, hopelessly beaten, find fled to the north. 


." 
... 


*' 


..y.. 


.. 


It was then, and has ever since been, the fashion to say that England 
was saved {roln a very great danger by the proyidential interference of 
storms; to the Spaniards, it soothed the national pride; to the English, 
it seetHed to point them out as the elect of God. In reality it was quite 
untrue. Froin the day on which the Spanish ships appeared off the 
Lizard till a week after the battle of Gravelines there was no wind 
beyond what a well-found ship ,\yould prefer; nothing to prevent frequent 
intercourse by small boats. Subsequently, the weather was bad, and gave 
effect to the danlage wrought by the English guns; for the Spaniards, 
with no thought of Dennlark or Norway, and still less of returning 
south, were trying to reach their own coast by passing to the west of 
Ireland. But they ,vere ignorant of the navigation; they had neither 
pilots nor charts; their ships were not sea,vorthy, and the weather ,vas 
wild. As they passed between the Orkney and Shetland Islands they 
left one ship a wreck on Fair Isle. Some "'ere lost among the "\Vestern 
Hebrides; SOine near the Gianf's Causeway and on the coast of Donegal; 
twelve were driven into Sligo Bay and there totally lost; others on the 
outer isles. " And so I can say," wrote Sir Richard Bil1ghall1, the Governor 
of Connaught, "by good estilnatiol1, that six or seven thousand men 
have been cast away on these coasts, save :some thousand of them which 
escaped to land in several places where their ships fell, which since were 
all put to the sword." Others were wrecked further south. One, driven 
again into the Channel, was thrown ashore near Salcombe. According 
to the Spanish estin1ate, two-in addition to the San Felipe and San 
J..1/ateo- were sunk in the battle, nineteen ,vere ,vrecked in Scotland or 
Ireland, and thirty-five ,vere not accounted for. In all, captured or 
destroyed, the loss of ships \\?as returned as sixt} -three, and the loss of 
life was in even greater proportion; for to the men of these ships who 
were, for the most part, drowned or butchered, ll1ust be added the very 
large llulnber of those who were slain in fight, or died of wounds, 
sickness, cold, and fan1Ïne. Few such tren1endous and far-reaching cata- 
strophes have been recorded in history. 



RICHELIEU 


(From volume IV, chapter IV, "Richelieu," b.1J Stanley Leatlzes, 1.
[.A., 
f01ìnerly Fellow and Lecturer in History w. T1'init!J College, 
Call
bridge ) 


For eighteen years the great l\Iinister had ruled the kingdom of France. 
lIe had clainled for his lIlaster and hinlself power over all persons and 
causes within the realm. He had elevated absolutism into a principle. 
Existing institutions, existing traditions, had been forced to give way 
before his will. Clailliing so ll1uch, he lllllst be brought to account for 
all that he clainled. IIis great achievements in the field of diplomacy, 
his personal triumphs over rivals and enemies, the creation of a French 
army and a 
'rench navy, the lasting impression of his overmastering 
personality-these things give him a great place in history. But he 
must also be judged by his work as an adlninistrator, and by the effects 
of his work on the internal prosperity and development of France. 
France needed a great administrator. The development of her 
institutions had not kept pace with her growth. The monarchy had 
accepted the heritage of a hundred feudal sovereigns; it had undertaken 
the task of welding a dozen races into a nation; all the men and all 
the treasures of the kingdom were at its disposal; the fund of loyalty 
and national enthusiasln on which it could draw was ahnost inexhaustible; 
but the Inachinery for the orderly execution of its purposes was still to 
be created. 'Ve ll1ayalso think, and consequences were to prove, that 
safeguards against the abuse of its authority were needed; but we can 
hardly blame the statesman who saw in Parlements and Estates General 
only so many obstacles to efficiency. The materials for a constitutional 
monarchy Illay have been present in France, though they were not 
very obvious to view; but the materials for an orderly, law-abiding, and 
beneficent monarchy were certainly prcsent, and Richelieu did little or 
nothing for their organisation. 


. 


*' 


i
 




 


.. 


'l
he burden of taxation was great; the distribution of it rendered 
its incidence even more galling. The pay.y á'états, Langucdoc, Provence, 
Burgundy, Britanny, paid hardly more than onp-third of thcir proper 
share. Richelieu endeavoured indeed (1 6528-3fl) to assimilate the 
financial conditions of some of these provinces to the rest of France; 
but here his authority for once proved insufficient; find he had to 
compound with the freer provinces for the restoration of their liberties. 
Dauphiné alone lost its privilegcs. Not only did the nobles and the 
clcrg! .escape the lllore burdensoille fornls of taxation; but the myriads 
of ofliclals, wh?se numbers were constantly growing, also avoided payment. 
lVlany professIons were exelllpt. 1\10st of the chief towns paid a light 



54 


The Governo1",f and tIle Parlements. 


composition for taille. It is estimated that a fourth of the population 
of France went free of direct taxation 011 one ground or another. 
Moreover, one-third of France escaped the chief part of the gabclle. 
The burden of the unprivileged and especially of the peasants was the 
heavier in consequence. 
Richelieu himself, though profuse, was not avaricious. IIis income 
from ecclesiastical benefices was about a million and a half livrea; and he 
received as much n10re from property and pensions. At his death his 
fortune, though large, was not large in proportion to his opportunities. 
That he himself was no financier, need not be laid to his charge. But 
that he did not discover and employable financiers is largely due to the 
principles ,vhich governed his public action. He required his men of 
finance to be as subservient as his generals. His Bullions and Bouthilliers 
found him money; he did not understand, he did not care to understand 
the means. More capable ministers might have been less easy to control. 
Even their dishonesty was valuable, às placing them more completely 
in his power, should they at any time give offence. 
In general administration Richelieu made little systematic improve- 
ment. Local administration, so fa.r R.S it existed, "'as in the hands of 
the heads of the five-and-twenty governments into ,vhich France was 
di,"ided, and of the Parlements. 'l"he military local authority was in the 
hands of the Governors, the civil authority in the hands of the Parle- 
menta. In times of weak government the authority of Governors had 
frequently been used in the cause of rebellion. Richelieu made it clear how 
slight that authority really was, and it was proved that the rebellion 
even of a Montmorency ,vas not dangerous. But the Cardinal was 
naturally not inclined to increase the importance of the Governors: and 
their office continued to be one rather of dignity than of power. Only six 
months' residence was customary; and even this "'as frequently evaded. 
'''Vitb the Parlement,y he \vas constantly in collision; they approved 
neither his financial edicts, nor his manner of dealing with political 
offenders, nor his contemptuous attitude towards the law. They were not 
suited for tbe work of administration; and, if they had been, they \vould 
not have been suited to the Cardinal. His nlethods were arbitrary and 
direct; he carried further the practice introduced by his predecessors 
of despatching commissioners, malt res fLes reqtætes, to districts \vhere 
action was necessary; under the name of intendants de justice, de police, 
et des.ftnancea, these officers received the widest authority to override every 
existing functionary or institution, to order all matters at the plea-sure 
of the central Government, to try persons and causes without regard to 
the formalities of law. Similar officers accompanied the armies, where 
their simple procedure and extensive competence proved of the highest 
valu
 in controlling and regulating expenditure and supply. Eventually 
a system of intendants was created; but under Richelieu there was no 
system; no law prescribed the duties of intendants or defined their 



TIle Intendants.-Justice.-Police. 


55 


powers; the despatch of each intendant was an act of arbitrary force; 
the intendants were the direct agents of a lawless autocracy. 
In matters relating to justice :France was already ,veIl provided. The 
Courts of the présidiaux and the Parlements, with minor jurisdiction5, 
covered the field well; the complaint was rather of the excessive com- 
plexity of the system and procedure, than of injustice or defect. But 
Richelieu made it a practice in dealing with political offenders to dis- 
regard the ordinary Courts of justice, anù to proceed by the action of 
commissions of judges specially chosen to try the parHcular case. By 
such tribunals, Cinq-1\Iars, de Thou, 1\Iontmorency, the l\Iarshal de 
l\Iarillac, and many others were condemned. If a first comn1ission showed 
any hesitation, it was dissolved, and a second appointed. However clear 
the offence, the Cardinal would not allow the law to take its normal 
course. The Parlements protested; but their protests were disregarded. 
In matters relating to public order little progress was made. The 
nobility as a class neither required crushing, nor were crushed. Im- 
poverished by the high rate of customary expenditure in the Court and 
with the army, and by the fall in the purchasing power of the fixed dues 
which they received from their tenants, their chief ambition was to win 
the favour of the Government and to secure its patronage, rather than to 
thwart it. The destruction of royal fortresses except on the frontier 
was a wise measure of economy. The destruction of the fortified 
residences of the nobility mayor may not have been necessary as a 
precaution; but such residences, for the most part, were indefensible 
against modern ordnance, and their destruction without indemnity was 
in any case an injustice. The practice of the magnates to raise rebellion 
on any occasion of discontent required severe repression; in the process 
of repression it became clear how scanty were the actual resources con- 
trolled by such rebels. The general security of ordinary citizens under 
Richelieu's rule was neither greater nor less than it had been in earlier 
times, and left much to be desired. The armies, whose pay became 
more and more iITegular, lived upon the country where they were 
quartered. 'ro be treated as a conquered country implied exceptional 
indulgence and not the reverse. In spite of the striking example made 
of de Bouteville and des Chapelles, the practice of duelling was hardly 
less prevalent under Richelieu than it had been under Henry IV. The 
Cardinal's police was admirable for the discovery of secret intrigues; for 
the security of common people it was not intended. The almost complete 
freedom of the press that had exi
ted up to 1630 was in that year 
destroyed; for the indulgent control of the Parlements and the Sorbonne 
was substituted a rigorous censorship: and a government permit was 
required for every publication. Of the press as a useful source of 
instruction to statesmen, he had no notion. The official Gazette de 
France contained all the information about public affairs which he 
thought desirable for the people.. 


CB. IV. 



56 


TIle Acade7Jly.-The Cllurch. 


Richelieu's fricndship for letters followed the sanle principle as his 
other efforts, the establishment of a central and suprelne authority. 
This was an age when literary and social circles or cliques exercised a 
considerable influence. The dix-sept seigneurs asselnbled at the house 
of Bassompierre, jlcssieu'rs du, jIal'ais in that of l\laùame de Rohan; the 
Countess of Soissons, the Princess of Conde, held sin1Ílar gatherings. 
The Hôtel de Ranlbouillet was the centre for the précieux. One of these 
clubs met at the house of Valentin Conrart to discuss literary questions. 
Richelieu heard of their discussions, and oflered them his protection and 
official recognition. Though somewhat enlbarrassed, they had no choice 
but to accept, and in 1634 they were constituted as the French AcadenlY. 
The Pal'lcrnent with considerable reluctance registered their letters-patent 
in 1637. The nunlber of the members from the first was forty, of whom 
Balzac, V oiture, Chapelain, Vaugelas were the nlost distinguished. They 
accepted their prescribed mission: to puri(y the French language, and 
to dptermine its canons according to the best usage. For this purpose 
in 1638 they began, at the suggestion of Chapelain, the compilation of 
their Dictionary, in which the influence of Vaugelas ,vas prcdolninant. 
The later history of the Academy is beyond the scope of this chapter. 
The age of Richelieu ,vas an age of a great religious revival in 
France. 1.'he Cardinal de Bérulle founded the Oratory, and Inultiplied 
institutions for the instruction of clergy. St Vincent de l}aul founded his 
Sæul's de la Charité, and his Congregation of the l\lissioll. The Ursulines 
and the Visitandines took in hand the education of girls and WOlnen. 
The Jesuit schoolmasters and professors were active everywhere. Richelieu 
himself did sOlnething for the reformation of the religious Orders, and 
procured his election as head of the three great Orders of Cluny, Cîteaux, 
and Prémontré, partly with this object. He did good service in com- 
posing the disputes between secular and regular clergy, in requiring 
of the religious license to preach and to confess, and in subjecting them 
to the authority of the Bishops. It was his ambition to become head 
of the Church in France, as he ,vas ruler of the State. lVnen the Pope 
thwarted his desire to be Legate for France, he drealned of becon1Ïng 
Patriarch of a national Church. Yet flagrant abuses ,vent unremedied 
in the Church. Non-residence, plurality of benefices, abbeys and priories 
in lay hands, the charging of lay pensions on ecclesiastical revenues, the 
elnployment of Cardinals and Archbishops in military commands-these 
disorders the Cardinal, hinlself a soldier and a pluralist, did not atteulpt 
to check. 
lIe is seen perhaps at his best in his treabnent of the Protestants 
after their pretensions to political independence had been finally sup- 
pressed. The toleration which was accorded to thenl 'was real. '1
he 
greatest consideration was shown for their susceptibilities, and the 
hostility of the Catholic population was kept in bounds. '1lleir pastors 
were exempted frOUI taiUe; a subvention of 
OO,OOO livres was accorded to 



Results of Richelieu's rule. 


57 


them; they were compensated for the lo
s of the property of the Church in 
Béarn. Richelieu was anxious to win over the Dlinisters and prepare the 
way for a general conversion. In this he was disappointed, but individual 
conversions were frequent, and the Catholic clergy were taxed to provide 
pensions for converted Protestant ministers. Of the growing influence 
of Jansenist opinions he showed hinlself less tolerant; he inaugurated the 
long struggle between the monarchy and this sect by the imprisonment 
of the ..Abbé of Saint Cyran in 1638; for reasons which are not 
altogether clear, he saw in these opinions a danger to the State; but 
the time has not yet COlne to enlarge upon this theIne. 
Different estilnates may be fonned of the n1ilitary achievements of 
the Cardinal; as to the general tendencies of his political action there is 
less roon1 for doubt. 'l"'alents, industry, perseverance, resolution, courage, 
these he possessed in the highest degree. The game of politics, as he 
understood it and as it was generally understood, he played with con- 
8umnlate ability. Though at a vast expense, he checked the dangerous 
preponderance of the Habsburg coalition and kept for France her proper 
place among the Powers. That a large proportion of the sacrifices which he 
imposed upon his country for this end "ere unnecessary, that the heritage 
of bankruptcy which he left to his successors was due to misgovernment, 
that his habitual contempt of law and justice ,,
as impolitic as well as 
immoral, that he created no system to take the place of that which he 
destroyed, that the absolutisI11 which he set up was lawless and disorderly, 
that he seems to have never comprehended the true bases of national 
prosperity and national power-these are defects which become the more 
flagrant the 1110re highly we estimate his gifts. The abasement of the 
magnates, the suppression of the Huguenots, the Habsburg wars, even 
the maintenance of his personal power-these were legitimate ends. But 
in his choice of m_eans he was reckless and inlprovident; in his choice of 
persons he looked for subservience rather than for independent initiative; 
of III ore exalted aiuls he had no conception; of mercy and justice he took no 
account; of creative and beneficent statesmanship he had no share. Four- 
fifths of the field of political endeavour he left untouched, or touched only 
to encunlber and destroy. If the Peace of \Vestphalia and the Peace of 
the Pyrenees were of his making, so also was the Revolution of 1789. 
He had revealed to the French monarchy the weakness of all those 
traditional and conventional restraints which had linlited the power of 
earlier Kings for good, and more especially for evil; the autocracy was 
slow to unlearn the lesson he had taught. The bonfires of rejoicing 
which celebrated his decease were premature; his death was not to ease 
the bondage which his living will had Ï1nposed on France. 



TI-IE LAST CAMPAIGN OF GUSTAVUS ADOLPIIUS 


(F'rom volume IV, chapter VI, "GwJtavus Adolphus," by A. W. Ward, 
Litt.D., F.B.A., JI,[
ter of Peterlwuse, Canlbridge) 


But his [Gustavus'] intention of crushing the Bavarians before their 
junction with 'Vallenstein "ra.s frustrated; though, moving on from Fürth, 
he occupied the road leading from Ratisbon to Eger by Amberg and 
\Veiden. The Bavarians had already reached Eger; and, massing his 
forces, 'Vallenstein was clearly desirous of waging a decisive conflict 
(June). That, with forces scattered over so wide an area, Gustavus 
should exhibit some uncertainty in his movements was inevitable; but 
after he had resolved in his turn on giving battle at Nürnberg, the 
energy with which he concentrated his forces is extremely remarkable. 
Before the actual conflict he more than doubled his llulnbers, raising 
them to little short of 48,000 troops, as against more than 60,000 
enemies. The latter estimate, ho"Tever, is very uncertain, because of 
the extraordinary nUlnbers of non-combatants-15,000 Inen it is said 
and as many \volnen-conlprised in 'Vallenstein's army. 
After falling back on Nürnberg, and marking out a camp for his 
forces on the western and southern sides of the city, Gustavus paused to 
await both the arrival of the enemy and that of his own reinforcements. 
The fortifications of Nürnberg itself ,vere strengthened, and the citizens 
cheerfully prepared for the defence, contrasting-if we may attach 
credit to a song of the day-their own hopefulness, as they beheld 
their" father" and his" heroes" in their midst, with the desolation of 
l\lagdeburg when her fate was upon her. By the middle of the month 
"r allenstein had taken up his position in a vast fortified camp which 
extended 011 the left bank of the Regnitz as far as Fürth immediately 
opposite Niirnberg, and faced the Inain Swedish position from heights 
covered with batteries. The Swedes had failed in all their attempts to 
prevent the construction of the vast camp "Thich threatened an effective 
blockade of the city and of the Swedish camp at its gates. Within 
the walls the signs of famine were already at hand; for the town was 
crowded ,,'ith fugitive peasantry; and the ravages of disease were 
spreading among the Swedish soldiery. 
Soon after the middle of August, hnwever, Gustavus had gathered 
his forces, 'Vallenstein, strangely as it was thought, hazarding no inter.. 
ference with the arrival of the service contingents. The most important 
of these was that brought by Oxenstierna from Rhine and l\Iosel, with 
which, after effecting a junction with the troops of Banér and those of 
'Villi
m of 'Veill1ar, he had reached Nürnberg on August 20. All was 
no,v ready for a decisive struggle. 
On August 31, the Swedish army was drawn up in fighting order 



1632] 


Failure of the Swedish assaults. 


ó9 


along the Regl1itz opposite \ Vallenstein's canlp. But he would not 
accept battle. A cannonade opened on the following day remained 
ineffectual; and on the night of Septem ber 
 the Swedes crossed 
the Regnitz at a lower point, and pitched their camp immediately 
opposite that of the enemy. On the morning of the 3rd the attack 
upon the heights on the northern side of the camp began. The chief 
point of attack and defence was the aUe Jl esfe, a ruined castle in the 
llliddle of a clearance of the wood which had been specially fortified by 
the \Vallensteiners; thrice the Swedes entered it, and thrice they were 
ejected froln its walls. The struggle continued caldi.gsimalnente, in 
\Vallenstein's phrase, till darkness and the fall of rain rendered its 
continuance on the part of the Swedes impossible. But they held their 
ground during the night, and in the n10rning essayed another attack, 
but again in vain. Hereupon Gustavus withdrew his troops into the 
camp at Fürth. 
'The I\ing frankly confessed to the Nürnbergerg the failure of his 
great effort, but the preparations in which he engaged for constructing 
another canlp showed that he had as yet no design of moving. Here- 
upon he once more tried negotiations with the adversary whose resistance 
had at last stayed his victorious course. rr...he intermediary was the 
Imperialist general Sparre, one of "V allenstein's former agents, who 
had been taken prisoner by the Swedes. Thurn, too, and the Bohemian 
agitator Bubna were in the King's camp, and may have contributed to 
complicate the situation. But the proposals of Gustavus, placed on 
record by Oxenstierna, were both clear and moderate. Pomerania and 
the dignity of a Prince of the Empire were to be the King's own 
" satisfaction"; the Elector Palatine was to be restored, but so likewise 
was the Elector of Mainz; Saxony and Brandenburg were to be com- 
pensated by l\lagdeburg and Halberstadt; "Vallenstein by a duchy of 
Franconia. The Emperor was to guarantee these arrangements. But 
Gustavus' offer of a conference on the question of peace, to be held in 
the sight of both armies, was declined by vVallenstein till he should have 
referred the proposal to the Emperor. (It 'was actually referred to him, 
and an indecisive answer came t,vo nlonths afterwards.) As we know 
from Oxenstierna, the impression left on Gustavus by the apathetic 
bearing of \Vallenstein was that no settlement remained possible between 
them but war to the knife. 
l\Ieanwhile, though Gustavus had pressed forward the entrenchments, 
the lack of provisions was becon1ing 
crious on his side; and \Vallenstein 
was in his turn being pressed by those around him to assume the offensive. 
But he was still in1movable. At last the King, in order if possible to 
"draw the fox," resolved on abandoning his position. Placing a garrison 
of nearly 5000 in Nürnberg, and sending a formal challenge of battle for 
the morrow to 'Vallenstein, he broke up his camp on September 18. 
Three days later, after the Swedes had reached Neustadt (near Coburg), 



60 


Uncertain 1/Z0ve1JlCllfs qf G ZlstavllS. 


[lC
2 


lVallel1stcin also broke up his calnp, and, burning down the villages 
round Nürnberg, In arched north. 
The course now pursued by Gustavus ....
dolphus is open to much 
criticism; nor can it be denied that his wonderful versatility and 
buoyancy at this time began to resemble a hazardous n1utability of 
design. It 
hould, however, be noted that the plan on which he now 
resolved had the persistent approval of Oxenstierna, who so often, as 
he told the King, had occasion to pour water upon his fire. Gustavus 
detern1ined on returning to Swabia, and thence, moving down the 
Danube, to invade the Austrian lands, where he reckoned on being 
supported by a rising an10ng the sturdy peasants of Upper l\.ustria, of 
whose continued unrest satisfactory assurances had reached hinl. 'i\T allen- 
stein, the ]{ing seen1S to have calculated, would by such a luovement be 
drawn out of Saxony; and in the luealltilue he ordered a Swedish force 
under Duwall fronl the Brandenburg side to join Arnin1, who now had 
16,000 n1en under his command. If, however, it proved necessary to 
furnish Saxony with further assistance, this task was to fall to Bernard 
of ",r eimar, who ,vas placed at the head of the force in Franconia during 
the illness of his elder brother, 'Villiam. Yet, when Bernard proposed 
to move forward on his own account, the l{ing showed much displeasure. 
He had once more modified or postponed his plan of action; and after 
crossing the Dann be at Donauwórth, and recapturing Rain, halted at 
Neuburg, ,vith the intention of continuing his march to the Lake of 
Constance (October). IIere at last definite news reached him of \Vallen- 
stein's moyemcnts, and an interval of high-strung expectation ended in 
clear and fi1'1n resolve. 
Notwithstanding the doubts of Gustavus, \vho remembered the old 
dealings with Arnilu and his master, 'Vallenstein had never hesitated in 
his detertl1ination to crush the Saxons, after Gustavus had himself failed 
to COlne to their aid. Against Arniln, l\laradas had led an In1perialist 
force from Bohenlia; and, in the middle of August, Field-l\larshal Holk 
had by "T allenstein's orders broken into the south-west of the Electorate, 
and finally carried his raids as far as the neighbourhood of Dresden. 
Holk, a Dane and a Lutheran by birth and breeding, who had fo1'1nerly 
served against \Vallenstein at Stralsund, by the brutal excesses of his 
flying column earned for himself in the El 
gebirge and its near neigh- 
bourhood a long-enduring infamy. In Septeluber "\Vallenstein detached 
Gallas \vith a force of from 10,000 to l
,OOO in Holk's wake; and, in 
the middle of October, the Bavarian troops having marched south to 
operate nearer h01l1e against the Swedes, himself approached by ,vay of 
Thuringia, and after effecting a junction ,vith both Holk and Gallas, 
reached Leipzig. J30th town and castle (the Pleissenburg) after a show 
of r
sistance capitulated. The Commander-in-Chief ,vas here abo joined 
by Aldringer, with a division from Bavaria, and by Pappenheilu, 
ho 
during the greater part of the year had been carrying on successful 


cu. VI. 



1632J 


Gustavus 'lJlarcltes for Saxony. 


ûl 


operations in the north-we:;t against the Swedish commanders Tott and 
Baudissin, and against the wary Duke George of Liineburg. ""-ith SOlllC 
reluctance Pappcnheiln relinquished a kind of warfare in which he 
excelled, and took up his position, near that of 'V allenstein, at I Iallc. 
'rhe whole district between the Elbe and Saale was now under the control 
of the Imperialists, whose head-quarters were at 'Yeissellfcls. Their 
entire force (including the Pappcnheilners) n1ay be reckoned at over 
25,000 foot and 15,000 horse, with, it is stated, 70 guns. But, as in 
the case of the Swedish al'lny, there is nluch uncf'rtainty in this 
estimate. 
Sure at last of "r allenstein's purpose, Gustavus detcrIuined upon 
keeping his pro1l1ise to the Saxon Elector. 'rhe intentions of John 
George lllay even now have seemed doubtful to the King; but whether 
'Vallenstein wcre to crush Saxony, or ,,,hether it were to lapse into 
neutrality, Gustavus, as he seems now to have fully recogniscd, would be 
placed in an impossible position. His way hOlne ,vouId be blocked, his 
tenure of POlnerania imperilled by the "Duke of l\lcckIenburg," and the 
freedom of the Baltic might once nlore be threatened by the Imperial 
Commander-in-Chief. If so, where was he to look for allies? Denmark's 
jealousy was stronger than ever. The desire of the United Provinces for 
peace grew with the revived ambition of Spain to take part in the war. 
He could place no trust in English diplomacy, which in the person of 
Sir Henry Vane continued to occupy itself with the subsidiary question 
of the restoration of Charles I's brother-in-law. Even France, while 
leaving the subsidies promised at Bärwalde unpaid, was alike lllÌent 
upon her own operations on the Rhine, and un desirous of lnaking 
Gustavus the arbiter of the Gert11an 'Val'. His progress had rea('hed 
a stage of great difficulty, and we know for certain that in these closing 
weeks of his career of conquest his n1ind was much occupied with what had 
becn his prilnary concern when he had opened his Genl1an campaigns- 
the problems of safeguarding the destinies of his own Swedish kingdon1. 
On October 17 the Swedish army reached Nördlingen; and on the 
24th Gustavus rode into the faithful city of Nürnberg, there to confer 
with Oxenstierna on the situation. The Chancellor was to relnain as the 
King's plenipotentiary in southern Germany, with instructions to SU111n10n 
to Uhn a meeting of the Swabian, Franconian, and two Rhenish Circles, 
which should there renounce their allegiance to the En1peror, accept 
the I
ing's "direction and protection," and order a general excise towards 
the prosecution of the war. 1.
he Chancellor received the King's În- 

tructions as to the government of his daughter and heiress, Christina, 

hould his death take place during her minority. At Erfurt Gustavus 
bade farewell to his Queen, and on November 11 he reached Naumburg, 
about nine miles from "T eissenfels. After the Hessians and the 'Veimarers 
had joined hiln, his force is reckoned to have anlounted to 19,000 foot, 
with 6500 horse and 60 guns. 



62 


Battle oj" Lützen. Death of Gustavus. 


[1632 


'l'he troops of John George of Saxony and Duke George of Lüneburg 
were not on the spot. Arnim, who commanded the Saxon forces that 
were still in Silesia, ,vas busily negotiating according to his wont. But 
with all his coming and going, Gustavus' urgent entreaties could not 
induce the Elector to do more than order two regiments of horse to 
march south with the Lüneburg troops. None of these, or of the 
Saxons, appeared on the field of battle. 
To keep in touch with Pappenheim, 'Val]enstein llloved back his 
main army on l\lerseburg and Lützen, and by this I110Vell1ent induced 
Gustavus to advance. On the evening of Novenlber 15 the Swedes stood 
on the border of the great plain which opens east of the Sanle upon 
Lützel1, l\Iarkranstädt, and Lcipzig-in this war, as in the Napoleonic, 
the chosen battle-field of the nations. On the morning of the IGth, in a 
November fog, the battle of Lützen began. 'l'he high road to Leipzig 
had been entrenched by \Vallenstein and ,vas defended by artillery. 
Behind it stood his arlny, in three lines of battle, with cavalry on either 
wing; upon it the Swedes advanced in their lighter forll1ation of two 
lines, the King and his blue and yellow guards on the right; Bernard of 
Wehuar (but as to this the accounts differ) in command on the left. 
About ten o'clock the fog for a time dispersed, and the attack, led 
by the King in person, began. Notwithstanding a charge of Ottavio 
Piccololllinï's cavalry, the Swedes had taken the battery on the road, 
but they were driven out again; and, as the fog thickened, Gustavus, 
hastening to the assistance of one of his regiments, ,vas momentarily 
isolated and carried among the enelllY's cavalry. l-lis horse received a 
wound, and then he 'HlS wounded hilllself, ,vhereupon he begged the 
Duke E"'rancis Albert of Lauenburg to help hitn from the tield; but the 
Duke fleù. A royal page (Leubelfing) rell1ained by the side of his master, 
when S01l1e troopers rode up and put an end to his life. l-lis body was 
found naked, and covered with wounds. The supposed foul play on the 
part of the Duke of Lauenburg is an exploded fiction. 
'This happened about noon. But the battle continued to rage till 
nightfall. So soon as the ICing's death beca1l1e known the cOlumand of 
his army was taken over by Ben1ard of \Veimar. Pappenheim, whose 
cavalry now intervened in the battle, was in his turn mortally wounded; 
he died next day at Leipzig. After the Imperialists had recovered their 
batteries on the high road, they were finally driven out by the val our of 
the Swedish infantry; but nearly the whole of the YeHow Regiment was 
destroyed in the process. Late in the evening, after making a last 
attempt to rally his yielding troops, \Vallenstein ordered retreat to be 
sounded, and Leipzig was reached in the course of the night. He had 
left 6000 dead on the field, the Swedes 4000. The stern judgment 
afterwards held by Wallenstein at Prague, when he magisterially dis- 
tributed capital and other punishments as well as large pecuniary 
rewards, seelns to indicate that he had no choice but to retreat. Yet 



1632] 


Significance of tlte death oj' Gustavus. 


63 


though the Swedes held their ground, they ventured on no pursuit. 
Both sides thought fit to claim the victory, and a Te Deum was cele- 
brated at Vienna. The exultation, however, both here and at l\Iadrid, 
where the Death if" the King Q( Sweden was enacted on a stage 
accustomed to present to its spectators D1iracles and visitations of divine 
Providence, was due to a single incident in the battle, rather than to its 
general result. 
The death of Gustavus Adolphus, at the height of his fame and 
almost at the height of his power-when still in the prime of life 
(he was not yet thirty-nine years of age) and full of aspirations 
which, marvellous as his career had been, were still unsatisfÌed--sb"Uck 
the world ,vith awe, and was fitly moralised by Cardinal Richelieu, 
the man who best knew how to turn the event to political account. 
The full significance of the removal of such a personality from the 
very midst of the scene of military as well as that of political action 
it would be almost impossible to overestimate. He was great, not 
only because of what he achieved, but of what he set himself to ac.. 
complish. Oxenstierna Inay have been warranted in asserting that his 
master intended to be Einperor of Scandinavia, and to rule over an 
empire comprising all the Baltic lands. He certainly meant Sweden to 
be made impregnably strong, and left free to hold to the faith which she 
had chosen. Thus, as the shnple triplet on the stone at Breitenfeld 
avers, he saved religious liberty for the world. He did so consciously, 
and not as a mere consequence of his political designs. To the fulfilment 
of his purpose he brought the gifts of a born ruler of men, as well as 
those of a great general and a great statesman. Cast in heroic mould, of 
commanding stature and fair-haired (re á' oro), he was a Swede every 
inch of hÍ1n, Affable, free of speech, full of wrath if discipline were 
broken or disaster provoked, he was the cOlnrade of his soldiers, by whose 
side he fought and prayed. He was at the saIne time a master of 
military detail; his reforms were grounded on experience, and his tactics 
inspired by the prescience of victory. He had been carefully trained in 
the art of government, and besides being able to speak eight languages, 
and interested in letters and learning, was versed in the adnlinistrative 
business of his own country and capable of understanding the political 
systeuls of other lands. He was an adept in negotiation; he was proof 
against the diplomatic insinuations of 'Vallenstein, and Inet as an equal 
the statecraft of Richelieu. His occasional political miscalculations and 
his strategic mistakes-not always easily distinguishable from one another 
-were almost invariably redeemed by his courage and resource; but the 
foundation of his strength lay in his unfaltering conviction that his 
cause was that of his country and one of which God had charged him 
wi th the defence. 



TIlE I
IPEACH1\IENT OF STR.L\FFORD 


(Fr01n 1.,olume IV, cllojJter I-LY, "The First 1"''lcO l'''cars of the Long 
Parlial1zent,'" by G. JV. Protllero, Litt.D., F.B.A., Hon. and Late 
Fellow and Tutor of King's College, Carnbridge) 


lVHEN the great assembly ,vhich was after,vards to be known as the 
Long Parliament met at 'Vesbuinster on Novelnber 3, 164,0, the con- 
dition of affairs was very different from what it had been in the spring of 
the year. It was plain, even to the King, that concessions IUust now be 
made. The Crown would probably have to surrender the clailn to levy 
ship-luoney, and even the custOlUS duties, without consent of Parlianlent, 
to abolish monopolies, and to extend the lhnits of religious toleration; 
but subsequent events showed that Charles had no intention of seriously 
modifying the ecclesiastical SystClll, of accepting the principle of minis- 
terial responsibility, or of binding himself to SUlllluon Parliaments 
regularly; in other words, he clung to the essentials of prerogative. 
The parliamentary leaders, on their part, "while resolved to carry out the 
programme which Pym had indicated in the previous April, had at first 
no intention of pushing matters to extrenles. Their ailll was rather 
restorative-their plan, to thrust back the encroaching power of the 
Crown, to sweep away the bulwarks of despotism, to revive ancient 
rights and safeguards. But, as is usual in revolutionary times, mutual 
suspicion and mistrust prevented a halt when the work of restoration 
was cOlllplete; and it ,vas at this point that the vacillating and shifty 
character of Charles proved of so fatal a significance. The conviction 
became ineradicable that the King intended, at the earliest opportunity, 
to ,vithdra,v the concessions into which he had been forced; and it must 
be allowed that, so early as the summer of 164!1, incidents, to be noted 
later, occurred ,vhich lent only too luuch colour to this suspicion. Thus 
the measures promoted by Parliament, in order to safeguard the rights 
,vhich had been gained, became more and lllorc subversive of the old 
order, ,vhile acts of violence on the King's part betrayed more and more 
hostility towards the parliamentary party; and the two sides ,vere 
gradually driyen into a position of ant3cionism, of which the only 
outconle could be civil war. 
The most Ï1uportant event of the first six months of the Long 
Parliaillent was undoubtedly the trial of Strafford, which led to his 
execution on J\Iay lQ, 1641. So long as influences hostile to refo1"lll 
surrounded the I{ing, so long as the executive relllained in the hands of 
men not only independent of, but hostile to, parliamentary control, a 
reconciliation between the Crown and the nation would be itnpossible. 
It was therefore upon the instruments of autocracy that Pym and his 
colleagues concentrated their attention. Abandoning the lengthy 



1640-1 ] 


TILe Î111pcach71lcnt of Straffol"d. 


65 


method hitherto followed, of investigating and expounding grievances, 
they resolved to strike boldly at the root of the mischief. Within a 
few days of the meeting of Parlian1ent, a list of persons to be im- 
peached was drawn up; it included, aUlong others, the names of 
Strafford and L'\ud. 'l'he parliamentary leaders "yere not, however, in 
any hurry for the attack; they intended to begin by collecting evidence 
and Inaking sure of their ground. That the plan was altered, and the 
first blow struck swiftly, was due to the fact that Strafford, hearing of 
their intention and anxious to anticipate his accusers, urged the King to 
charge }")ym and others with treason, on account of their dealings with 
the Scots. The King hesitated; and the opportunity was lost. Pym, 
whu was throughout remarkably well informed as to the intentions of 
the Court, at once carried the impeachn1ent to the Lords; and on 
November 11 Strafford was committed to prison. 
'l'he ilnportance of this initial success was very great; for it not only 
removed from the !{il1g's side his nlost devoted supporter, a counsellor 
whose advice would at least have been clear and energetic, but it struck 
tel Tor into the hearts of others connected with the systeln which Strafford 
had upheld. It showcid, moreover, that the Lords were ready to support 
their colleagues in the Lower House, who were therefore emboldened 
to proceed. "-.rhe blow was speedily followed up. An attack on the 
relaxation of the penal laws caused (December 10) the flight of Secretary 
\Vindebank, known to have been in close touch with Panzani, and 
suspected of being himself a Catholic. A resolution, declaring that ship- 
money was illegal, and that the Judges who decided against Hampden 
had broken the law, led to the flight of Lord Keeper Finch (December Ql). 
He was promptly inlpeached. In the following February, Judge Berkeley, 
whose support of the Crown had been peculiarly outspoken, was sum- 
moned from the Bench itself before the bar of the House, and committed 
to custody. The assu)uption by Convocation, in the previous sumn1er, 
of rights independent of Parliament had aroused much feeling; and 
the canons which it had passed were conden1ned on political and 
religious grounds. 'l"hese were now declared to be illegal; and Laud 
was Í1npeached of high treason (Decmnber 18). Articles against hin1 
were voted in February; and on l\Iarch 1 he was sent to the Tower. 
Thus all the most important agents of the monarchy were swept away. 
l\Ieanwhile the charges against Strafford had been roughly formulated 
(November 
4). Several of these, such as the statements that he had 
maliciously stirred up strife between England and Scotland, and had 
embezzled public money, were exaggerated or absurd; what was serious 
and, indeed, undeniable, was the twofold charge that he had" endeavoured 
to subvert the fundamental laws and government of England and Ireland, 
_ Etnel instead thereof to introduce an arbitrary and tyrannical government 
Etgainst law," and that "he had laboured to subvert the rights of 
Parliaments and the ancient course of parliamentary proceedings." Evi.. 
5 



66 


The trial of StTafford. 


[ 1640-1 


dence in support of these accusations was actively collected during the 
next two lllonths; and the detailed Articles ,vere voted on January SO, 
1641. Three weeks later, Strafford put in his ans\ver before the Lords; 
and Charles gave grievous offence by being present on the occasion, and 
Dlaking no secret of his satisfaction with Strafford's defence. 'rhe Peers 
voted that all that had been done in his presence was null and void; 
nevertheless, they allowed Strafford another month to prepare his case. 
The impatience and irritation of the COlIlmons grew day by day. 
Although many Î111portant steps (presently to be noticed) had already 
been taken towards re-establishing the authority of Parliament, nothing, 
it was evident, could be regarded as secure till the main issue had been 
tried and settled in the case of the chief adviser of the Crown. 
On l\Iarch fl2, 1641, the great trial began. It was a nlemorable 
scene. In that ancient hall, the ,vork of the 1110st tyrannical of the 
Norman J(ings, the policy of one of the most despotic of his successors 
,vas arraigned, before a Court consisting of all the highest in the land, 
by the representatives of the nation which he had sought to bind. 'rhe 
ultimate issues went far beyond the inu11ediate result for the individual 
prinlarily concerned. Two conceptions of governlnent were brought face 
to face-government by prerogative alone, and govenllnent by I{ing and 
Parliament. Pym had declared Parlianlent to be "the soul of the body 
politic "; Charles and Strafford had deliberately attempted to eliminate 
it from the Constitution. In the trial of Strafford this issue came to a 
head. 'The chief obstacles to the success of Pym and his colleagues lay 
in the difficulty of bringing Strafford's action within the legal conception 
of treason. Pym refused to restrict it, as heretofore, to attacks upon the 
person or authority of the sovereign; in his mind, an attack upon the 
Constitution ,vas the more heinous crinle. He sought to combine the 
t,vo ideas by showing that an attempt to underilline the laws on which 
the authority of the monarchy reposed was to attack the sovereign in 
his political capacity and to threaten hilll with ruin. But this ,vas a 
subtle and a novel idea, involving a ne,v interpretation of the law; and, 
had the King frankly allowed the trial to take its course, it is at least 
possible that Strafford might have obtained an acquittal. But this was not 
to be. 'rhe arnlY in the north was getting out of hand, and becalne 
more and more irritated with Parliament, which it regarded as the 
cause of its receiving no pay. This was, in a sense, true; for Parlia- 
nlent could not payoff the English army without also paying off and 
disbanding the Scots; and to disband the Scots was to deprive Parliament 
of its best allies. A petition was pro111oted among the officers, which was 
to be sent to the l{ing, assuring him of their support against pressure on 
the part of Parliament. Two courtiers, Sir John Suckling and Henry 
Jermyn, with the connivance of the Queen, endeavoured to utilise this 
state of feeling in the concoction of a plot for transferring the command 
of the army to Colonel George Goring, and in some way or other-the 



1641] 


A1'"'lny Plot.-Bill of Attainder. 


67 


details remained undetermined-bringing armed force to bear on the 
political problem. But differences of opinion arose; and Goring, in 
a fit of personal pique, divulged the plot. 
Pym now made up his mind that Strafford must be brought to the 
block. Had the parliamentary party been able to trust the Iring, 
extreme measures ,vould have been unnecessary; but the Army Plot 
deepened the distrust already felt, and convinced Pym and others that 
death was the only security against Strafford's being employed again. 
'l"he charge of advising the I\:ing to bring in the Irish army was no\V 
actively pressed. Strafford, ill as he was, defended himself with marvel- 
lous skill and courage. Reminding his judges that the evidence of a 
single witness (Sir Henry Vane) ,vas insufficient to prove a charge of 
treason, he denied that he had ever intended that the Irish army should 
land in England, but asserted that "in case of absolute necessity...when 
all other ordinary means fail," the King may" employ the best and 
uttel'lnost of his Ineans for the preserving of himself and his people." 
The defence made a favourable itnpression; and, as the trial went on, 
it gradually became clear that an acquittal on the charge of treason 
was probable. The King had been requested by both Houses to disband 
the Irish arll1Y fronl which so much was feared; it told against the 
prisoner that Charles for some time sent no reply, and eventually refused 
to disband the army till the present business should be over. Never- 
theless, on April 10, the friction between the two Houses ,vas such that 
the trial ,vas temporarily adjourned. A few days later, the" inflexible 
party" in the Commons decided on a radical alteration in the lnethod 
of attack, and brought in a Bill of Attainder-in other words, a 
privüegium to meet the special case, in lieu of a trial by impeachment 
under the ordinary law. 'rhe Lords, indignant, declared that the trial 
must proceed. The Commons were divided on the question; Pym and 
Hampden advised the continuation of the trial. But on April 19 the 
Lower House voted by a majority of three to one that Strafford's acts 
amounted to treason; henceforward the Bill was inevitable, and it was 
read a third time by 
04 votes to 59. The 59 "Straffordians " were the 
germ of the later Royalist party; a comparison between this vote and 
that on the Grand Remonstrance gives a measure of the strength con- 
ferred upon that party by the subsequent religious quarrel. 
'Vhile the Attainder Bill "as under discussion in the Upper Hou
e, 
Charles made efforts to conciliate the parlialuentary leaders. It was 
rumoured that they were to be given high office; Pym had more than 
one intervie,v with the King. On the other hand, intrigues with the 
army went on; preparations "
ere Inade for enabling Strafford to escape; 
an attempt, by Charles' orders, to introduce an arn1ed force, under 
Captain llillingsley, into the Tower, failed and was discovered. The be- 
trothal of the Princess l\lary to Prince 'Villiam of Orange (Alay Q, 1641), 
in itself a welcome event, could not allay the growing alarm and irritation. 
5-2 



68 


Anti-dissolution Bill.-Deatll qf bYtr'ajfòrll. 


[ 1640-1 


It was this dread of military violence that, more than anything e18
 
detern1Ïned Strafford's fate, as it was afterwards to prove the imn1ediate 
cause of the Civil vVar. Under its influence a strongly-worded protesta- 
tion was drawn up in the Lower House, binding those who signed it to 
defend "with lifc, power, and estate, the true reforIllcd Protestant 
religion," the King's "person, honour, and estate," "the power and 
privileges of Parliament," and "the lawful fights and liberties of 
subjects." 1.nis pledge, a sort of English" Covenant," was adopted, not 
only by the C01l1nlons, but by all the Protestant Lords, and eagerly 
taken up in the City. The timely disclosure by Pym of Goring's plot 
and other military intrigues (l\Iay 5) intensified the prevailing anxiety, 
and finally brought over the Upper flouse. Essex had, a week before, 
spoken the grim words, "Stone-dead hath no fellow"; and the bulk of the 
Peers were no\v of the same n1ind. A Bill prohibiting the dissolution of 
Parlianlent without its own consent was hUTI 1 ied through the Lower 
Hou:se, and proceeded pari passu, with the Bill of Attainder in the 
House of Lords. 'I'he Lords wished to limit the duration of the anti- 
dissolution Dill to two years-a wise provision; but the COmlnOl1S 
refused, and the Lords gave way. Both Bills were read a third time on 
l\fuy 8. The London nlob paraded the streets, raged about 'Vhitehall, 
and clamoured for execution. After two days of agonising doubt and 
hesitation, the }{ing gave his assent to both Bills; anù on :\fay 12 
Strafford met his death with dignity and courage on Tower Hill. 



THE OVER'rHRO\V OF THE FRENCI-I DIRECTORY 


(From volume VIII, chapter XXII, "Brllmaire,'t'I by 
H. .A. L. ./,'islter, 
1/,A., J?ellow and TufÞor of Þtew Coll-ege, Oxford) 


It was now past five; and, as the legislators of the last revolutionary 
Assembly of France were pursuing their devious flight through the park 
under the opaque mist of a November evening, and leaving shreds of 
their crimson robes on the orange trees, Lucien, whose readiness and 
melodramatic gift never failed him through the day, hUlTied to the 
.Anciens to explain the situation. 'Vith calculated pathos he depicted 
the afli'ay in the Lower Chamber" the daggers drawn on Bonaparte, and 
the conspiracy against the Republic. Quickened and encouraged by this 
intelligence, Cornudet's commission proceeded to draft the required 
decree, which named Bonaparte, Sieyès, and Ducos provisional Consuls, 
adjourned the Councils till February QO, and created an intermediary 
Legislative Commission formed from the Anciens, who acted upon the 
assumption that the other Council had dissolved itself. Between 7 and 
B p.m. the decree was passed "rith one dissentient voice, and the Anciens 
adjourned till 9. During the interval a remnant of the fugitive Five 
Hundred, varying according to different account
 frolD twenty-four to a 
hundred and fifty, were being gathered together by the emissaries of 
Lucien and called to the Orangerie. It was seen that the conCUITence of 
the Second ChaIl1ber would give constitutional authority to the acts of 
the conspirators; and, when the Ilulnp opened its sittings at nine o'clock 
in the diln light of three candles, all the formalities were observed. 
Lucien took the chair; Chazal proposed a motion, which differed lnerely 
fron1 the decree which had passed the Anciens in respect of the composi- 
tion of the Legislative Commission, which was now to be derived from 
both Councils; and a committee was appointed to present a report. In 
the interval of its deliberations a vote was passed that Lefebvre, l\Iurat, 
and Gardanlle, with the soldiers who had acted under their command, had 
deserved well of their country; and Lucien improved the weary hours 
of the night by a third oration upon the legendary daggers, which 
formed the official apology for the use of force, and the resort to 
constitutional revision. 
At 11 o'clock the COlnn1ittee returned and presented its propositions. 
The Directory "ras to be abolished, and the provisional government 
entrusted to Bonaparte, Sieyès, and Ducos. The Legislature was ad- 
journed till February 20, 1800, but 62 members of the opposition were 
excluded fronl it bJ' name, and B. commission of 25 members was appointed 
to act in conjunction ,vith the commission of the Anciens in all urgent 
ulatters of police, legislation, and finance, to prepare necessary organic 



70 


The Directory abolislted. 


[1799 


changes, and to elaborate a civil code. At 1 a.m. the measure passed 
the Anciens; and an hour later the three Consuls were sUlnn10ned to the 
Orangcrie to swear" fidelity to the Republic one and indivisible, to 
liberty, equality, and the representative system." Vague words denoted 
vague aspirations, but the dominant thought of the Revisionists was 
aptly rendered by Boulay when in Inoving the re
olutions in the Orangerie 
he spoke of nationalising the Republic. At 3 a.m. Bonaparte drove 
back to Paris with Sieyès and Lucien, silent and wrapped in thought. 
It ,vas 4.80 a.m. before the Anciens had named their conlmission; and the 
first streak of dawn must have been shining in the sky before the last of 
the legislators recrossed the barriers. Paris was cahn and satisfied with 
the event. 'l'he story of the daggers had been announced at the theatres 
by the agents of Fouché on the night before; and in the nlorning the 
citizens of the capital read upon the posters how twenty assassins had 
attacked General Bonaparte in the Council of Five I-Iundred, and how 
his life had been saved by the brave grenadiers of the Legislature. Two 
days later the Afoniteur recounted that Thomas Thonlé, the grenadier, 
whose sleeve had been torn in defending Bonaparte frolD the blow 
of a dagger, had breakfasted and dined with the general, and that 
ia citoyeulle Bonaparte had enlbraced Thomas Tholllé and put upon his 
finger a dialDolld ring valued at two thousand crowns. 
De'rocqueville has said of the coup d'état of llrulnaire that nothing 
could have been worse conceived or worse conducted. Yet it accom- 
plished its object without the shedding of a drop of blood; and, as the 
Prussian an1bassador in Paris pointed out to his nlaster, it diflered from 
all previous revolutionary days, in that it brought neither suspicion nor 
fear, but rather universal joy and hope. A menlber of the Anciens 
reflected the general feeling, when he told his constituents that it was 
not a case of one faction vanquishing another; that it was the Republic 
which had triumphed over the agitators, the French people who had 
triumphed over anarchy and royalisln. 'l'he country was ,yell content that 
the "Ia wyers' clerks" should return to their office-stools, and cease their 
sterile discordant clamours. France was tired of the revolutionary 
phraseology and the revolutionary legislation, of the oft-repeated 
formulae which had cloaked tenuity of thought, and of the feverish 
rush of decrees which had perpetuated discord and perplexed ad- 
ministration. The whole country was content to subscribe to the 
dictum of that deputy of the lVleuse, ,vho, in apologising for the coup 
d'état to his Department, said that of all the curses which can afflict the 
moral world there is none more terrible than the pernlanence of a body 
which ceaselessly deliberates and ceaselessly makes laws. Those ,vho 
lived through the period which elapsed between 18 Fructidor and 18 
Brumaire never forgot their sensations of impotence and despair. It 
seemed that the Terror had beCOllle a chronic malady, and that the 
virus of civil strife was too deeply set in the body politic to be eliminated 



1799J 


The price to be paid for Bru'nluire. 


71 


even by heroic remedies. It was a 'l'error without the consolations of 
hope, unredeemed by great achievenlents, and leading to no salutary end. 
But in the hour of darkness Bonaparte returned, a brilliant ray shooting 
from the mysterious East, and the ugly shadows nleIted suddenly away. 
Here was the Inan raised above the ignoble strife of parties, the man of 
firm will, clear eye, and abrupt speech, who would clinch the Revolution 
and reconcile liberty with order. Men of every type concurred in his 
enterprise, aiding it either with secret prayers or overt act: soldiers from 
the Army of the Rhine, soldiers from the Army of Italy, men of the 
J.\;Iountain and men of the Plain, doctrinaires of the Institute who denied 
God, doctrinaires of royalism who affirmed the Tridentine decrees, 
peasants ,vhose sole passion was for their plot of land, burgesses who 
cared for little but a quiet life, bankers who craved for enlarged credit, 
diplomats who wished to see amenity restored to public life, all who 
cared for peace, all who cared for social stability, all ,vho cared for the 
glory of France. Little synlpathy was felt for the fallen Councils. They 
had talked wildly and governed ill. They had not even made the long 
expected Civil Code, or cured the desperate finance which had brought 
the monarchy to its grave. In the governlnent of the Directars France 
had discovered neither virtue, intellect, nor wisdom. To be a Director 
of the French Republic 'was indeed, as Sieyès said, a trade above all 
others" terrible and infernal." Yet though much was to be gained by 
the concentration of the executive authority, and much also by the 
suppression of extravagant political debate, the price was destined to be 
such as no one in France inlagined on that November evening, while the 
deputies were rushing wildly through the park, and the fog was falling 
upon the last fevers of the French Revolution. 



NArOI.lEO
 AT ST HELENA 


(From volume IX, chapter XXIV, ",S'ft [lelena," by 
II. .A. L. J'isller, J.1f.A., Þèllow and 1'utor of .J.\TCW College, O.rford) 


THE abdication of Napoleon, his retirement from J>uris to 1\lahnaison, 
and his flight to Itochefort, have been related in a previous chapter. 
"llen Napoleon alTivcd at that port (July 3, 1815), he found the coast 
narrowly watched by British sail, and hazard upon every side. :For ten 
days he waited to balance chances, conscious of a certain loss of elasticity 
in himself, listening to the counsels of others, hio1self indifferent. A 
clandestine escape, an ignominious capture ill the ballast of a Danish 
sloop or in an open row-boat, would have been inconsistent ",-ith an 
impressive close; and, after SOBle hesitation, he rejected all desperate 
expedients and deternlilled to throw hinlself on the generosity of the 
English people. On July 13 he wrote to the llrince Regent that he had 
tern1Ïnated his political career, and that he came, like '.fhelnistocles, to 
seat hiinself at the hearth of the British nation and to claiin the pro- 
tection of her laws. Two days later he gave himself into the charge 
of Captain l\laitland of the Bcllerophon. lIe knew well that he could 
expect little mercy froin the restored Governnlent of }'rance, and that 
the Prussians would shoot hhn like a dog. Dut EnglH.nd "ras the refuge 
of the hOtlleless and the asylum of the exile. She had sheltered Paoli, 
the friend of his )Touth; she had sheltered the Bourbons, the rivals of 
his manhood. Out of nlagnaninlity she might shelter him. 
But the nlan whose alubition had wrought such disasters could not 
expect to be treated with Iplliency; and the British Government 
detennined that Napoleon was no guest, but a prisoner of ,val'. It was 
a case of policy, not of precedents; and, even if Lord Liverpool's 
Cabinet had been accessible to quixotic inlPulses, it would have been 
their plain duty to suppress then1 in the interests of European peace. 
The Congress of Vienna had declared Napoleon to be an outlaw, and, 
in virtue of a COll vention struck on August 
, 1815, the four Great 
Powers agreed to regard him as thcir COlnnlon prisoner. The turn of 
events had devolved upon Great Britain the ungracious office of the 
gaoler; but Austria, ltussia, and Prussia 'were consenting parties; and 
all four PO\\ ers pron1Ïsed to nanIe conlmissioners to assure thenlse!ves 



1815] 


Napoleon rellloved to Sf IIelcnu. 


73 


of Napoleon's presence in the place of his captivity. l\Ieanwhilc, on 
July 28, the British Governnlent had decided to send their captive to 
St Helena. In that lonely island of the Atlantic, with its precipitous 
coast, its scanty harbourage, its sparse population, the great prisoner 
of state might be securely guarded, the Inore so as the East India 
Company, to whom the island belonged, had recently erected upon it 
a complete system of semaphores. The climate was reported to be 
salubrious; and in 8t I-Ielena Napoleon might enjoy a larger measure of 
liberty than any government would then have been prepared to concede 
to him in Europe. It was a hard fate, but brighter than an Austrian 
fortress, and gentler than the doom of l\furat and of Ney. 
On August 7 he ,vas removed to 11.1\1.8. Nortlturnberland, which, 
under the command of Adlniral Sir George Cockburn, was instructed to 
convey hirrl to his destination. His suite consisted of twenty-five persons, 
including Count Mcntholol1 and General Gourgaud, who had served as 
adjutants in the last campaign; General Bertrand, who had controlled 
his household in Elba: C()unt de Las Cases, once a royal I:migré, now 
one of the most. attachcd of his adherents; and Dr Barry O'lVleara, the 
surgeon of the Bellerophon, who, at Napoleon's request and with the 
consent of the British Government, was allowed to act as his medical 
attendant. Montholon and Bertrand 'were accompanied by their .wives, 
Las Cases by his son. On October 17, at the hour of eight in the evening, 
after a passage of ninety-five days, Napoleon landed at Jamestown. As 
the house destined for his reception was not yet ready, he took up his 
residence at the Briars} a villa belonging. t.o a merchant named Bale- 
combe, where he spent some weeks in pleasant and fan1iliar intercourse 
with the family of his host. In December the exiles moved into Long- 
wood, a low wooden building on the wind-swept plateau, far ahove the 
prying curiosity of the port. It was here that the last ,scene in 
Napoleon's life-dralna was enacted. 
For the general history of Europe the captivity at 8t Helena possesses 
a double interest. Not only did it invest the career of the fallen hero 
with an atmosphere of martyrdoln and pathos which gave to it a new 
and distinct appeal, but it enabled him to arrange a pose before the 
mirror of history, to soften a way all that had been ungracious and hard 
and violcnt, and to draw in GrIn and authoritative outline a picture of 
his spJendid achievelnents and liberal designs. The Napoleonic legend 
has been a force in the politics of Europe; and the legend owes llluch to 
the artificc of the exiles. The great. captain, hero of adventures wondrous 
as the Arabian Nights, passes over the mysterious ocean to his lonely 
island and emerges transfigured as in some ennobling mirage. He 
shares the agonies of l
rometheus, benefactor of hUlnanity, ch&ined to 
his solitary rock; his spirit is with 1\Iarcus Aurelius, moving in the 
serene orbit of humane and beneficent wisdom. The seed sown from 
St lIelena fell upon fruitful soil and was tended by devout hands. 



74 


Political Ï1nportance if' tIle captivity. 


[1815 


Carrel, the great Liberal journalist of the July ulonarchy, ClallllS 
Napoleon, on the ground of the Longwood conversations, as the friend 
of the Republic which he overturned. Quil1et sings of hinl as of SOlllC 
vague and rOlllantic embodiment of the dClnocratic spirit: 


".rai courOlln
 Ie peuple en ]?rance, en Allemagl1e; 
Je l' ai Jåit gentilhomme autant que Olta1'lemu[,,'lle; 
J' ai donné des aï.euæ à la foule sans nom; 
Des nations partout l ai gl'avé Ie blason. II 


The heir of the Napoleonic flonse, Louis Bonaparte, son of the 
ex-King of Holland, knew ,veIl how to exploit the deu10cratic elements 
in his uncle's carcer. In 1831 he ,vas secretly negotiating with Republican 
leaders in Paris; in 18g
 he publishcd a statemcnt in his Réveries 
politiques that his principles were "entirely republican." In 1839 a 
slender 'volulue caBle frolD the san1e pen, entitled Id{;es l-tapoléon- 
iennes, which contained the whole essence of the exilic literature and 
the whole progranll11e of the liberal Enipire. r.rhe Siècle, a Bonapartist 
organ, spoke in IS-to of "the sublime agony of St Helena, longer than 
the agony of Christ, and no less resigned"'; and in the haze of sentiment 
D1en lost sight of the clell1entary facts of Napoleon's career. "The 
thought of Napoleon at St IIelena," say the editors of the official 
C014relJpondaTlce (vol. XXIX), "is a thought of en1ancipatioll for humanity, 
of delnocratic progress, of the application of the grcat principles of the 
Revolution "; and this was the pretext and apology for the Second 
En1pire, the Governlnent which, beginning with a cannonade in the 
Boulevards, ended with the capitulation of Sedan and the loss of Alsace 
and Lorraine. 
Exile is in itself a form of n1artyrdom; and the exiles of Longwood 
ate their bread in genuine sorrow. As Las Cases relnarked, "The details 
of St Helena are ullilnportant; to be there at all is the great grievance." 
A little company of French gentlemen and ladies, accustomed to the 
stirring life of a brilliant capital, found itself pitched on a desolate 
island, far froln friends and home and all the great llloveluent of the 
world. The attendants of Napoleon were not cast in the stoical 1110uld; 
and, even if considerations of policy had not been involved, tempenuncnt 
would have inclined thml1 to exaggerate minor discon1forts, to strain 
against the restrictions of the governor, t3 shudder at the rocks al-;.d 
ravines, to condelnn the rain when it Wfl:3 rainy, the sun when it was 
sunny, and the wind whcn it was windy, to cOlnpare the sparse gunl-tret's 
of the Longwood plateau with the anlple shades of l\Iarly and St Cloud, 
and the rough accolUlllodation of the Longwood house with the cOll1forts 
of a well-appointed Parisian hotel. To a n1an like Napoleon, whose 
whole soul was in politics, seclusion was a kind of torture. I-Ie had 110 
administrati ve occupations to absorb his energies as had been the case ill 
Elba; and" tilue," to quote his own bitter phl'a
e, was now" his only 



1821] 


Deatlt of Napoleon. 


75 


superfluity." To quicken all the leaden hours was a task too heavy even 
for his busy genius. He learnt a little English, he dictated memoirs, he 
played chess, he read books and newspapers, he set Gour
aud mathem:- 
tical problen1s, and in the later half of 1819 and the earher h
lf of 

"'O 
he found some solace in gardening. In the first two years of hIs captIvIty 
his spirits were sometinles high and even exuberant; and in the exercise 
of his splendid intellect he must have found some genuine enjoyment. 
But at heart he was miserable, spiting himself like a cross child, and 
allowing petty insults to fester within him. Now he was calm, proud, 
and grand, now irritable and wayward. Even the approach of death 
could not purge his soul of its evil humours, and he left a legacy tc 
CantilIon as a reward for attempting to assassinate the Duke of \Vellington. 


. 


. 


.. 


. 


. 


But a reconciliation of his inconsistencies is not to be attempted. 
As the mood seized hin1 he could be brutal, cynical, obscurantist; and 
who can keep the chart of his moods and thoughts? There is not a 
noble sentiment which he ,viII not pitch overboard when the scowling 
storm is on hitn; there is harùlya proposition which stands unrefuted in 
the confused effulg
nce of his contradictory apologies. At one moment 
he loudly proclaims his beneficence, and then suddenly the notes of the 
edifying anthem are stopped, and we hear the chagrined cry of the 
baffled scheIner laying the blalne of failure on his confederates. On the 
whole he bore his hour of trial with a certain noble courage, cheering 
his despondent and irritable companions, and himself setting an example 
of resolute work. But, as hope after hope went out and disease gained 
on his constitution, his giant energy flagged. At the opening of 18
1 
it was clear that he had not long to live; and after the end of l\Iarch 
he scarcely rose save to change his bed. The disease which slew him ,vas 
the same which had slain his father, cancer in the stomach; but he bore 
the pain with patient fortitude and full knowledge. When Bertrand 
asked him what conduct his friends should pursue and what end they 
should aÏln at, he answered with fine magnanimity, "The interests of 
France and the glory of the Fatherland. I can see no other end." The 
last faint sounds caught from his lips as he expired on l\lay 5, 18
1, are 
said to have been, " France, armée, tête á'ar.mée, Joséphine"; and so in 
the midst of the great hurricane he passeù out of life, charging at the 
head of his ghostly legions. 



THE ASSASSINATION OF ABRAHAl\1 LINCOLN 


(F'J"om volume rrlI, chapter XVI, "The Civil JVar," 
by J oltn G. Nicolay) 


From his parting yisit to General Grant at }}etersburg on April 3, 
1865, J)resident Lincoln returned to City Point, where he learned that 
Richmond had fallen Rnd had been occupied by Unionist troops; and on 
the follo'wing day, April 4, Adnliral Porter arranged a visit to the Con.. 
federate en.pital for the President, the Admiral and several army officers. 
J"}roceeding by boat up the James rhTer, the party started with ample 
conveniences for the trip. But when, on nearing Richmond, they caIne 
to a ro"T of piles which had been placed across the river as a military 
obstruction, they found the opening through it so far closed by a 
disabled vessel that their steamer could not pass. \Vith more zeal 
than prudence, the Adn1Ïral urged that they should leave behind their 
steanIcr, \\"ith the cani.age and cavalry escort, and proceed in the 
twelve-oared barge he had brought along; and, seated in this, they 
were towed by a small tug-boat the remaining distance to one of the 
Richmond wharves. l)rocuring a !,ruide froln the coloured Inen loitering 
near their landing-place, and without knowing how far they had yet 
to go, Admiral Porter formed the part)'" into a little procession of six 
sailors anued ",ith carbines in front, and four in rear; and bet,veen 
these, without other escort, ]"1resident l
incoln and his four companions 
walked a distance of perhaps a mile and a half to the centre of 
Ridnnond. In that southern latitude it "Ta
 already hot, and the 
nutrch ,vas tedious and fatiguing, oycr rough roads and through dusty 
streets. Probably neyer before, in the whole course of history, did 
the ruler of a great nation Iuake so sinlple and unpretcnding an 
entry into a couquered capital. 'l"he party at length reached the 
headquarters of General 'Veit7el, the new Federal cOlnn1ander, in the 
house which Jefferson Dayis had occupied as his official residence 
only 36 hours before. After t.his, of course, every coulfort was pro.. 
vided for President Lincoln during the remainder of his stay, and 
in his visits to the scene of the conflagration which folIowed the 
evacuation of the city, and to various points which the war had 
rendered historic. :FrOlll l{ichnlond the President returned to City 
})oint, whence he took steamer for "r ashington, called back by a 
severe accident that had happened to Secretary Seward. 
For a "reek after his return, Lincoln and his Cabinet were 
fully occupied ,vith important details of administration, particularly 
,,,ith the serious question of recol1struction, "Thich the recent n1ÍlitarJ 
successes so suddenly forced upon thcln. On the evening of April ]] t 



1865] 


Assassination of Lincoln. 


77 


in response to a serenade, after thankfully expressing the na tiona! joy 
at the prospect of speedy peace, the President dwelt at some length 
upon the difficult problems by which the question was environed. 
Neither he nor his listeners had any premonition that this was to be 
the last public address he would ever make. 
The subject of reconstruction was again discussed in the Cabinet 
meeting held on Friday, April 14. l
incoln spoke hopefully of 
being able to restore the machinery of civil governlnent in the 
Southern States without encountering too much objection froIH extreme 
radicals on the one hand or obstinate conservatives on the other, and 
without excessive friction betwecn the conquering and the conquered 
authorities; and an unusual feeling of gratitude and generosity per- 
vaded his words. r.rhe Cabinet meeting was made doubly interesting 
by the presence of General Grant, who had arrived that n10rning fronl 
the field, bringing with him Captain Robert Lincoln, the President's 
son. 'l"'he day itself had a historic significance. It was the anniversary 
of the fall of Fort Sumter; and a great celebration was then in progress 
inside the battered walls of that fortress, in which General Robert 
Anderson again raised the identical flag which his own hands had 
hauled down four years before. 
In 'Vashington on that evening, the President and l\Irs Lincoln, 
accolnpanied by two young friends, went to Ford's 'l"'heatre to see the 
comedy of Our A'merican Cousin. At about ten o'clock, while the 
President, seated in an arln-chair in the upper right-hand stage-box, 
was deeply absorbed in the progress of the play, a young actor 
named John 'Vilkes Booth, a fanatical Secessionist, having gained 
entrance to the little cOITidor, noiselessly opened the box-door imn1e- 
diately behind Lincoln, and, holding a pistol in one hand, and a 
knife in the other, put the pistol to the President's head and fired. 
Major Rathbone, who was in the same box, sprang to seize the 
murderer, but the latter dealt hitn a savage cut on the arm with 
his knife, and, advancing through the box, placed his left hand on 
the railing and leaped froln its front to the stage below. A spur that 
he wore caught in the folds of the An1erican flag which draped the front 
of the box, causing hiln to break the slnall bone of one leg in the fall. 
Nevertheless, he raised himself to his full height and, brandishing his 
knife as he turned to the audience, shouted the State n10tto of Virginia, 
"Sic senlper tyrannis," and, hastening through the fanlÍliar passages to 
the rear door of the theatre, lnounted a saddle-horse waiting there and 
galloped away. 
The ball fired by the assassin had entered the back of the President's 
head on the left side, and, passing tlu'ough the brain, lodged just behind 
the left eye. For an instant the audience was stupefied by the pistol- 
shot and the assassin's drall1atic exit; then followed clamonr and COll- 
fusion in the 
ffort to render assistance and in the eagerness of pursuit. 



78 Funeral of Lincoln.-Attack on ò"ecrctar!} Seward. [1865 


'The ,vounded President, breathing but unconscious, ,vas borne to a 
house across the street. Before such a hurt the skill of the surgeons 
was unavailing; yet his strong vitality ,vas slow to surrender life. The 
family and State dignitaries watched by his bedside through the night, 
and at twenty-two minutes past seven the next morning Abraham 
Lincoln breathed his last. 
Vice-President Andrew Johnson was in 'Va.c;hington at the tinle, 
and at eleven o'clock Chief Justice Chase, in the presence of a few 
witnesses, administered to him the oath of the presidential office. This 
formal cerelllony passed almost unnoticed amid the profound grief and 
gloom that President Lincoln's death spread through the nation. On 
the 19th, after a brief funeral service in the East Rool}), the body was 
borne ,vith solelnn official and n1ilitary pOlnp to the rotunda of the 
Capitol, where it lay in state until the evening of the next day, and 
where thousands took a last look upon his face. Then began a great 
mourning pageant, in which the remains "rere borne an1Ìd impressive 
and reverent popular delnonstrations through the great cities of the 
States of Ne\v York, Pennsylvania, Ohio, and Indiana, back to his 
home at Springfield, Illinois, over ahnost the same route by which he 
had come to the seat of governlnent as President-elect in February, 
1861. On May 4, 1865, the body was laid to rest in the cemetery 
of Oak Ridge, ,vhere an imposing monUlnent has been erected over the 
grave. 
The elaborate preparations to assassinate the President were the 
result of a conspiracy \vhich Booth had arranged and had been carrying 
on for some ,veeks, though the final devices of the plot were contrived 
the sanl
 day. Nine persons ,vere active in the conspiracy, with a 
nunlber of others, some consciously, SOlne unconsciously, playing minor 
parts. The plot contemplated the assassination of several other high 
government officials, upon only one of whom, however, an attack was 
made. Secretary of State Seward ,vas confined to his bed by a fracture 
of the arnl and ja\v received in a fall from his carriage. Simultaneously 
with the tragedy at the theatre, one of the conspirators nalned Payne, 
a stahvart but brutal and simple-n1Ïnded youth of twenty years, pre- 
tending to bring medicine for the Secretary, forced his way into 
1\11' Seward's bedroonl, in the second storpy of his house, and despite 
the efforts of Seward's son, whom he beat down 'with the butt of a 
pistol ,vhich had missed fire, and of a soldier-nurse whom he brushed 
aside, fell upon the Secretary, inflicting three terrible wounds in 
his cheek and neck with a huge knife. 'Vith desperate energy the 
Secretary rolled himself to the floor between the bed and the wall, 
and, bafHed in his attelnpt, the ,vould-be lllurderer again forced his 
way downstairs to the street. 
NOLwithstanding the ,veakness and pain of his broken leg, the 
assassin Booth, favoured by accidents, managed to escape first into 



1865] 


TIle work of Lincoln. 


'79 


:l\Iaryland and then into Virginia, where, after almost intolerable ex- 
posure and suffering, he was, on April 
5, traced to his hiding-place in 
a barn and shot, while it was being burned to drive hinl out. Payne 
,,,as arrested on his return to the city, after having foc two days hidden 
himself in the \voods east of "r ashington. The other conspirators were 
soon felTeted out and taken into custody. After a long and searching 
trial by a military cOlnmission, during the Inonths of l\lay and June, 
four of the accessories were sentenced and hanged, three imprisoned for 
life at the Tortugas, another was sentenced to six years in jail, and 
the ninth, after two years of wandering about Europe, was finally 
freed by a disagreement of the jury. 
The assassination of Abraham Lincoln caused a profound sensation 
throughout the civilised world. The deliberate lllalice of the murderer 
ps shown in his preparations, the savage boldness of his deed in the 
midst of a great assemblage, the contrast of the black crime \vith the 
surrounding scene of brightness and plefi.
ure, shocked every human 
soul not distorted by fanatical hatred. 1."he sincere condolences and 
tributes of respect to the memory of the dead President that were 
sent by rulers and cabinets, by cities and associations, by individuals 
eminent in state and church, in science and art, came from all nations, 
in almost every language. These messages of sympathy ,vere inspired 
more by affection than horror, for in the loss of this lowliest-born of 
men, whose genius had lifted him to the highest powers and prerogatives, 
who had shared the labours of the hum blest and worn the honours of the 
proudest, all mankind felt a C01TImOn bereavement. 
He was beloved by his countrymen because he was the full embodi- 
ment of American life, American genius, American aspiration. No 
American statesman has equalled hilTI in comprehending and inter- 
preting the thought and will of the conllllon people. He had realised 
the republican ideal that eVl
ry American boy is a possible American 
President; and he gave the national birthright a ne,v lustre, when, 
from the steps of the 'Vhit.e Ilouse, he said to a regiment of volunteers: 
"I am a living witness that anyone of your clúldren may look to 
come here as 111Y father's child has." It was by no nleans an idle 
forecast. 'Vithout even waiting for a generation to grow up, five 
American volunteer soldiers, who were under fire in the Civil "r ar, 
have since then worthily filled the Executive Chair of the Republic. 
But it ,vas not merely a romantic influence which Lincoln had on 
Alnerican life. He lifted the Declaration of Independence from a 
political theory to a national fact. He enforced the Constitution as 
the supreme law. It was under him that for the first time the 
American government attained full perfection in its twin ideals of 
union and liberty. 
'Vhile foreigners could not so correctly understand or value his 
typical An1erican characteristics, they were able to estimate his great- 



80 


The work flf Lincoln. 


[1865 


ncss and achievelnents for more universal reasons. At the beginning 
of the Civil 'Var, observers and critics in other lands, judging from 
superficial indications, generally assumed that a permanent dissolution 
of the Union was a foregone conclusion. Conservatives looked with a 
degree of satisfaction upon what they deemed a certain failure of the 
experiment of republican government. Liberals scarcely dared hope 
that the Union would emerge from the struggle in undiminished 
strength and territorial integrity. Both classes very naturally doubted 
whether a rail-splitter candidate, even though he had the shrewdness 

o carry a popular election, possessed the wisdoln and the strength of 
will to conquer a formidab]e rebellion. This question was now solved 
by the test of experiment. Lincoln had reconciled, harmonised and 
rewarded his rivals, crystallised the 
trenbrth of the loyal States, inspired 
financial confidence, dominated the jealousy of his generals, bafflcd the 
intrigues of faction, and led the public opinion of his nation from 
indefinite tolerance to the abrupt and total destruction of the in
titution 
of slavery. All this he had accolnplished with a sagacity, a tact, a 
patience, a moderation, and yet with an unyielding firmness that made 
his re-election to a second term at once a popular demand and a party 
necessity. He had ruled with an intelligent purpose, a consistent deter- 
mination, an abiding faith. He had adluinistcred a steady uniform 
justice, and tempered it with lllcrcy and forgiveness so ready and broad 
that he was often censured for leniency and never for sternness. He 
made liberal offers and grants of amnesty. Striking slavery its death- 
blow with the hand of war, he tendered the South compensation 
.ith 
the hand of friendship and peace. Commanding a million armed men, 
his sale ambition was to vindicate the doctrine that the majority lTIUst 
ru1e, that there can be no appeal from the ballot to the bullet. 
To the admiration of foreigners for the art and magnanimity of the 
ruler 'was joined their appreciation of his unselfish personal rectitude, 
and his world-wide hUlnanitarian wishes of freedom for the enslaved, 
and hope for the oppressed in all lands. Above all, it was his great 
act of Emancipation that raised his adtninistration to the plane of a 
grand historical landmark, and crowned his title of President with 
that of Liberator. 



CHAPTER IV. 


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THE CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS AND THE PRODUCTION 
OF THE HISTORY 


-:. ,." ''',1. ..
., .,' AMBRIDGE was still a medieval town 

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'




. ë
 when John Siberch, the first University 
:,' ,

1
 .:""','" /';It;
;;': Printer, set up his press nearly four 
,'
 .!
 _ 
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rl : hundred years ago. The chapel of 

. y. 
'r: t King's had just risen to the south of 
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.' 
:. the old quadrangle but the buildings of 
..).).... .... ," "..", no other college formed more than a 
single court. Twelve of the fifteen 
colleges then in existence stood in an irregular row, a few 
of them fronting, but more standing back from, some half 
a mile of cobbled High Street. Masking the front of most 
of the colleges, and here and there wedged bet\veen and 
around, \vere nests of red-tiled houses-students' hostels and 
to\vnsmen's homes-facing either on the High Street or 
on adjoining lanes so narrow and so filthy that the most 
important of them was falniliarly known, even in those days, 
as Foul Street. 
Prominent in the town \vere the great friaries of the 
four mendicant orders. The Franciscans, \v hose buildings 
were perhaps the most splendid in Cambridge, occupied the 
ground \vhere Sidney Sussex now stands. The house of 
the Dominicans stood where Emmanuel College has since 
risen, the Carmelites were between Queens' and King's, and 
the buildings and gardens of the Augustinian Friars covered 
some four acres close by the market place. Out at Barnwell, 
Cä&
 6 



82 CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS 


overshadowing even these foundations in wealth and im. 
portance, was the great priory of the Augustinian Canons. 
Across the river, where Magdalene is now, stood Buckingham 
College, a Benedictine house for student-monks, backed by 
the Norman fortress on Castle Hill. 
The streets still swarmed with monks and friars in black 
or grey. At night the proctors perambulated the town 
accompanied by priests and other ecclesiastics C armed for 
the conservation of the peace' and ready to draw on 
laymen who disregarded their challenge. Every few years 
came the plague. The gloom of the solitude it bred on its 
last visit, six years before, had driven away Erasmus, Lady 
Margaret Reader in Divinity, the pioneer of new times soon 
to come. 
In the High Street, in front of Gonville Hall, stood a 
house which bore the sign of the King's Arms. Here 
Erasmus had once lodged and here, towards the close of the 
year 1520, his friend John Siberch set up a press. Probably 
Siberch came to Cambridge from Cologne and his real name, 
as we should now regard it, seems to have been John Lair of 
Siegburg, a little town some twenty miles from that city. 
Little is known of the particular circumstances in which his 
Cambridge ,vork ,vas done, but the first book to come from 
his press, in February 1521, \vas an edition of an adulatory 
address to Cardinal Wolsey, delivered on behalf of the 
University on the occasion of the Legate's recent and 
ceremonious visit. And while Siberch was setting Greek 
type for his second book, for the first time in England, 
Luther's works were burned in the market place and the 
Cambridge protestants were meeting in secret at the White 
Horse Inn. 
Nine of the books Siberch printed have conle down to 
us in whole or part. It may be interesting to mention that 
in some of these books he used the very initial letters which 
begin the chapters of this pamphlet. His press has dis- 
appeared but a good idea of it may be obtained from the 
drawing facing this page, which is reproduced from a 



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A Sixteenth Century Press 



IN THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY 83 


Book of Trades printed in the year 1568. And as this 
drawing shows a sixteenth century press at work, perhaps a 
few words of explanation may be given. 
The men in the cut, then, by the leaded window at the 
back, are setting type from the case much as compositors do 
now in this twentieth century. In front, the printer to the 
right, next the head of the press, is shown in the act of inking 
the for1ne, or frame of composed type, with two balls, pads 
made of sheepskin, stuffed with wool or horsehair and fitted 
with wooden handles. Just a moment before, he has taken 
on one ball a little ink, previously worked up on a smooth 
stone; has worked it again between the two balls till both 
were evenly covered; and then has turned to his forme. 
The man by his side is removing a printed sheet from the 
tymþan, a frame, holding a pad of blanket between stretched 
layers of parchment, which is hinged to the sliding carriage 
bearing the forme. When he has taken off his sheet we 
may inlagine him replacing it with a fresh one. He would 

hen shut down, over the clean sheet, the light open frame 
shown, to his right, resting against an upright support and 
hinged to the tympan on the other side. 
This lighter frame, or fr'Z:sket as it was called, when folded 
over the paper held it in position and kept the edges clean, 
for its openings only exposed that part of the sheet which 
would eventually come against the type. The frisket being 
down, the printer folds both tympan and frisket together over 
the forme. Then the carriage, now bearing forme, frisket, 
paper and the tympan with its pad, is run in under the screw 
press. The lever is pulled over and the screw descends and 
presses a stout board, called the þlaten, down on the tympan, 
and so forces the paper against the inked type. The pressure 
is released, the carriage brought out and opened and the 
printers are once more engaged as the cut portrays them. 
Siberch at the King's Arnzs worked just such a press as 
this. Though the times were troubled, the printing-press 
under suspicion and the University authorities not usually 
over-bold) Siberch's employment as printer had no warrant 
6-2 



84 CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS 


but the enterprise of those he served. But other counsels 
must have prevailed when, some twelve years later, letters 
patent of King Henry the Eighth formally gave to the Uni. 
versity the fight to elect C three stationers or printers or 
sellers of books' to print and sell in Cambridge all manner 
of books approved by the Chancellor or his vice-regent and 
three doctors. Under this grant printers were regularly 
appointed, but down to the days of Queen Elisabeth no 
more printing ,vas done at Cambridge. For fifty years 
l{ing Henry's grant was used rather for the exclusion of 
heresy than for the promotion of learning. 
But the Press, extinguished for a time by one theological 
controversy, was, in part at least, to owe its revival to another. 
In mid-Elisabethan times the Puritan party in the University 
was strong and its members were still hopeful of effecting 
within the Church of England those changes which were 
afterwards embodied in their own separate organizations. 
Without a Press they could do little. In London the 
Stationers' Company had inquisitorial powers and not only 
might, but habitually did, search the printing-houses for books 
held to be perilous to religion or the state. I t would be 
difficult, if not impossible, to find a London printer to venture 
the risk of Puritan work. In Cambridge for some years past 
there had been talk of a revival of the University Press. 
The Puritans threw their weight into the scale and in 1582 
Thomas Thomas, a man of Puritan sympathies himself, was 
appointed University Printer. From the day of Thomas's 
appointment-six years before the Spanish Armada set sail- 
down to the present tin1e, the office has been maintained, and 
its functions exercised, without a break. 
Thomas, and his successors for many years, used a press 
like Siberch's, set up in the house where the printer lived. 
Though the site of many of these houses is known, of only 
one has a drawing come down and even that is confessed to 
be 'drawn rather too short at the North end.' But, however 
badly drawn, the sketch has a special interest, for the place 
was once the refectory of the Augustinian Friars. So perhaps 



AND THE STATIONERS' COMPANY 85 


\ve may sho\v the house, 'compleat, only made into 3 Stories,' 
in which !\1r Buck, University Printer, lived and worked in 
the days of King Charles the First-with the defective' North 
end' to the reader's left. 



 
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There was much to disturb the quiet of these early 
printing-houses. Bitter controversy raged for years between 
the University on the one hand and the Stationers' Company, 
aided by the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Bishop of 
London, on the other, and the University Printers bore 
a full share of the blows. So far as it concerned the ecclesi- 
astical authorities the dispute was clear enough. The very 
reason that had made the Cambridge Puritans join in the 
revival of the University Press, led the Archbishop to dread 
it: 'ever sens I hard that they had a printer at Chambridg I 
did greatlie fear this and such like inconveniences wold 
followe,' he wrote on the appearance of a book in the 
Presbyterian interest, asking, in some desperation, 'for if 
restrante be made here and libertie graunted there, what good 
can be done?' With the Stationers the matter was not so 
simple. During the abeyance of the Press, the Company and 
certain of its members had obtained royal grants which gave 



86 CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS 


them the exclusive right to print particular books. So, when 
they afterwards appealed to the Courts, their argument was 
that if the general privilege of the University to approve the 
printing of all manner of books were upheld, the University 
might approve, and, therefore, the University Printer might 
produce, books which the Company or its members alone 
had, by special grant, the exclusive right to print. But, when 
complaining to the Bishops, the stress, naturally enough, was 
laid on the moral danger of a press 'farre from ordinarie 
research' ; 'it maie be thought we speake this for oure 
pryvate proffitte, but it is not soe.' In truth, though the 
Stationers had fair ground for dispute, in days ,vhen royal 
grants gave the only copyright, it is clear that their real 
objection was to competition of any kind from Can1bridge. 
They did not want any revival of the University Press and 
they meant to prevent it if they could. 
Thomas Thomas bore the first brunt of the fray. One 
day soon after his appointment he ,vas busy on a theological 
treatise of the Regius Professor of Divinity. Doubtless the 
printing had been duly approved, for the writer, William 
Whitaker, was ' the pride and ornament of Cambridge.' 
Suddenly there appeared on the scene the agents of the 
Stationers' Company. They invaded Thomas's house, seized 
his press, his type, all the printed sheets on which they could 
lay hands, and carried off everything to London. N or was 
the unhappy printer without insult added to his injury, for the 
Bishop of London wrote of him as a man 'utterlie ignoraunte 
in printinge.' 
The University secured both the return of the captured 
press and the protection of its Chancellor, Lord Burleigh, for 
the ill-used printer, but the struggle which began that day 
lasted for seventy years. At times there was spirited action 
on either side. We have seen ho\v boldly the Stationers 
opened battle. One of the University counter-strokes was 
to forbid Cambridge booksellers to sell or students to buy 
any book printed in London if an edition were even in con- 
templation at the U nivers
ty Press. Unless Elisabethan 



PRIVILEGES CONFIRMED 


87 


scholars were marvellously patient this order must have 
tried Cambridge men severely, and its issue shows the U ni- 
versity as keen to defend the freedom of its Press as the 
Stationers were to restrict it. Success in the struggle passed 
backwards and forwards. At one time Star Chamber or- 
dinances restricted the University to a single press, decreed that 
none of the printers should C be suffered to have any moe 
apprentices then one at one tyme at the most,' and declared 
that no book should be printed unless it had first been 
approved by the Archbishop of Canterbury or the Bishop 
of London. At another time, Charles the First, then yöung 
on his throne, was persuaded to confirm the privileges of the 
University C any letters patent whatsoever notwithstanding,' 
and the Lord Chief Justices, the Chief Baron and five puisnes 
upheld the plea that no patent for sole printing restrained the 
rights of the University Press. 
Peace came with the Commonwealth, when Parliament, for 
good and all, recognized the University as a privileged printing 
place. And with the close of the struggle with the Stationers 
came the end of the domestic press which had obtained since 
Siberch's time. The change ,vas made on the appointment as 
University Printer of John Field, C printer to the parliament,' 
when the University itself secured a site for its Press, within 
a stone's throw of the present buildings. There Field built 
what was for those days a large printing-house. A colonist 
home from America who visited the place SOine five and thirty 
years later and C had my cousin Hull and n1Y name printed 
there,' tells us that the printing-room was sixty feet by twenty, 
held six presses and had 'paper ,vindows and a pleasant 
garden.' The building, probably with different windows 
and a different garden, remained part of the printing office 
of the University for nearly two hundred years. 
But changes of far greater importance were at hand. 
Field, a poor craftsman himself: was succeeded by John 
Hayes, and under Hayes 'great and excellent \vritinges' 
were sometimes 'much prejudiced by yC unskillfull handes of 
uncorrect printers.' Richard Bentley, scholar and critic, as yet 



88 CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS 


in those librarian's lodgings at 5t James's ,vhere Newton and 
Wren and Locke and Evelyn used to meet, set himself to pro- 
mote a second and a greater revival of the University Press.. 
Then, in the time of King William the Third, were laid the 
real foundations of the Cambridge Press of to-day. 
Many difficulties stood in the way. Hayes of the 'unskill- 
full handes' was Printer, his appointment was for life, and he 
was in possession of the only printing-house. The presses, 
too, were old, the type poor and worn, and the University 
without funds for their renovation. But more formidable 
still was the fact that no real control by the University then 
existed. Hitherto the Press had been the venture, not of the 
University, but of the Printer, \vho had taken gain or loss 
and made an agreed payment to the University in return for 
the privileges of his appointment. Bentley's ideal was very 
different. He looked to a Press which should \vorthily repre- 
sent his University itself and should serve 'no end but the 
advancement of learning. His aim appealed to others, who 
freely gave him help, but, in the n1ain, it was Bentley's energy 
that overcame the obstacles, as it had been his zeal that 
pointed the way. The first step ,vas taken when the 
Chancellor of the University was persuaded to promote a 
subscription. When the amount fell short, the Senate was 
moved to borro\v a further thousand pounds. Then a second 
printing-house ,vas built, close by the old one, and there new 
presses were installed. Bentley himself procured beautiful 
type from Holland, very like some of the fine old-face type 
used at Can1bridge now. And, finally, Curators chosen from 
the Heads of Colleges and the Senate \vere appointed to 
direct the new Press, with a competent craftsman, the Dutch- 
man Cornelius Cro\vnfield, as their adviser. 
The noble Press, as Evelyn calls it in his diary, then 
established was, ìn principle, the Cambridge Press of to-day. 
Great as subsequent changes have been, Bentley's aim-the 
production of books held by the University itself to be of 
permanent value, in a way worthy of the work-has remained 
ever since the policy of the Press. In principle there has 




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CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS 



PRESENT BUILDINGS 


89 


been no change. But to some few of the vast improvements 
in method, affecting buildings, machinery and management 
alike, we may briefly refer. 
First, as regards the Press buildings. When Hayes died 
the second printing-house was abandoned, and Crownfield, 
who was then made University Printer, \vas transferred with 
the new presses to the older house, which was the larger of 
the two. Some fifty years later, when George the Third had 
come to the throne, the first small part of the site on which 
the present buildings stand was obtained by the purchase 
of an inn \vhich faced the old printing-house, across the 
street. Twenty years later, a warehouse \vas built where the 
inn had stood and, in another twenty years, this \vas converted 
into a new printing-house. The centre of gravity now shifted 
across the street and all subsequent gro\vth has been on the 
side where the inn once stood. The great increase of ,york 
has made extensions almost incessant and it would be tedious 
to detail them, but just a word may be said of the buildings as 
they now stand. 
The illustration opposite shows the front of the Press 
facing Trumpington Street, the High Street of Siberch's 
day. A share of the cost of erecting this block was borne 
by the surplus of a fund subscribed for the erection of the 
statue of William Pitt in Hanover Square, and the block is 
accordingly known as the Pitt Building. The main part of 
the Press buildings lies behind, forming three sides of a square 
of which the Pitt Building is the front. I t may be of 
interest to add that the inn, which once faced Field's old 
printing-house, stood some fifty yards down the side street 
leading from the main road between the Pitt Building and the 
shops shown in the illustration; and that the site of the old 
printing-house itself, now occupied by the lodge and garden 
of the Master of St Catharin
Js, lies down the same street 
I 
on the opposite side of the way. 
To turn to the improvements there have been in 
printing machines. For more than three hundred years from 
the arrival of the printing-press in England there was no 



_-\
 B IDGE 


XI\ ERSITì PRESS 


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;::-- 0 Cornelius Cro".nñeld 
tr e same ,. 9 nd as e old press 
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 UlI'S'- appearance 
:-e a. -""W'" - \.e 0 Le pla:eï no lon
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res'.on B t substan. im- 
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 ame. He l:5ed iron alone, ,,-rich 
21 a:Jd, b. an i -yenio s mechanism, 
ss e and a be.Ler s:roke on the platen 

 ease its s. and ' print a sbeet t\\-ice 
- - :.-
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- ter L is .:1\ e:r'.o and two Stanbope 
.... -es.:::. .,.5 we ....: 0... cis t
ere. .-\nother t\çenty years 
_ _ _;=: t..': 5.. ,-r aC-lre. In:... ese presses-for 
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 .-=s -a 9 tes-!:e 0 C1e rerna. s riat but 

'- · . by rollers and e at platen 
,_1-.... ,"-r '\\-l::ch revolves w=th tre S3eet. 
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 _ ! _.1 _ lo,.I::1e aceo :1t 0 the ".orkinö of a 
ss-
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..._1. .:: ... _ -""e "'as, .':1Le
s_]y increas_:l 
 speed 
- - 5:: or- - t well T.h e \.ë. -0 5 press-s of 
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 t\.. _ -.--r....s -grt conve b t 
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take -dvantaöe of h 5 
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92 CAMBRIDGE MODERN HISTORY 


readers of the Press and corrected, revised and passed by 
writer and editors. Further, that every alteration made on 
the proof sheets has been carried out by the compositors, 
and that, from the type as finally corrected, þlates have 
already been taken. These plates are simply mechanical 
reproductions, in metal, of each separate page of the set 
type. So the type can now be distributed. and the plates, 
which take its place, are ready for the press. 
The press on which they are to be put is a þeifector- 
that is a press which prints both sides of the sheet in one 
operation. As it stands, a mass of metal some twenty feet 
long over all and weighing almost as many tons, with cylinders 
and rollers above, and levers, cranks and other connecting 
gear at the sides, it seems at first sight a crowded and 
complicated machine. But its working may readily be followed 
i
 for the moment, we regard the press as made up of three 
main parts. The first, an iron foundation, consisting of two 
sides, some fourteen feet long and three feet high, and two 
ends, not quite so high and only seven feet across. The side 
pieces of this foundation are connected at intervals, at the 
same height as the top of the ends, by iron stays; and, above 
and at right angles \vith these stays, and resting also on the 
tops of the end pieces, are four iron rails which run the length 
of the foundation and project a little at both ends. So the 
foundation, as a whole, may be regarded as an iron table, 
without a solid top, but carrying four parallel tracks along and 
beyond its length. The second of our main parts forms a 
sliding top for this table. I t consists of a flat iron carriage, 
nearly the breadth of the foundation and about as long, which 
slides backwards and forwards along the four rails, so that 
part of it projects alternately at either end of the foundation. 
And the third main part consists of two cylinders, nearly two 
and a half feet in diameter, which are fixed, side by side and 
almost touching one another, across the middle of the press, 
just above the sliding carriage. 
At two of these three main parts we must now look more 
closely. The sliding carriage, we notice, has its upper sur- 



PRINTING 


93 


face, for some distance at either end, smooth and flat across 
its whole breadth. Between these smooth levels at the ends, 
are two sunken beds, to hold the type or the plates which 
replace it. These beds are separated from each other in the 
middle by an iron lath, which is set on edge from side to side 
across the centre of the carriage. Each of the beds occupies 
almost the full breadth of the carriage; the mere strips, at a 
higher level, which bound them at the sides, being calIed the 
bearers. The depth, from top of bearer to bottom of bed, 
is exactly the same as the height of a shilling set up on edge 
-for that convenient measure gives us the customary height 
of type. The smooth levels we noticed before, which bound 
the beds at their outer ends, are higher, though almost im- 
perceptibly higher, than the top of the bearers. Now the plates 
we are to see used are mounted type-high; so that when two 
formes, each consisting of the plates required for printing a 
side of our sheet, are made up, one in either bed, the face, 
or printing surface, of each is on an exact level with the top 
of the bearers and only a shade below the smooth ends of 
the sliding carriage which carries them. 
Now let us look more attentively at the pair of cylinders 
just above. As we have already seen, they are fixed, side by 
side and almost touching one another, across the middle of 
the press. When we watch them revolve, we shall see that 
they turn in opposite directions, each towards the other at the 
top; so that their inner surfaces, which come, half-way down, 
within an eighth of an inch of touching, are both always passing 
down towards the sliding carriage below. At first sight the 
I cylinders may appear to revolve, each on a fixed axis, but on 
looking more closely we shall see that each cylinder in 
turn drops slightly, remains at the lower level for part of a 
revolution and then rises again. When the cylinder is down, 
its surface, at the lowest point, is on a level with the face of the 
forme. And the parts of the press are so connected and 
synchronised that the cylinder is down only while the forme 
which is towards the same end of the press is passing, on its 
outward journey, under the lower surface of the cylinder. At 



94 CAMBRIDGE MODERN I-IISTORY 


all other times the cylinder is raised, and when that is the 
case, the sliding carriage and its contents þass beneath it, 
without touching its surface. 
V\r e must just glance at the inking arrangements, which 
have not yet been noticed. If we stand facing either end of 
the press, we see before us, stretched across rather below the 
level of the sliding carriage and just beyond the limit of its 
slide, an ink-trough which is supported by projections from 
the foundation. The inner side of this trough is formed by 
part of the surface of a roller, which revolves and so coats its 
whole surface with ink. Against this roller, at the top, is a 
second roller \\Thich also revolves and takes ink from the first. 
This second roller is held at its two ends by pivoted arms, 
which, as the sliding carriage approaches the limit of its 
outward travel, rise and lift the roller upwards and inwards, 
so that it comes for a moment just on to the carriage as it 
reaches the end of its journey. N ow we shall see the use of 
the smooth levels at the two ends of the carriage. They are 
ink-distributing tables. Our rising roUer has deposited ink 
along a strip only at the end of the table. Were this ink 
taken up directly and rolled over the forme, the plates would 
be inked unevenly and in patches. So, as the carriage slides 
backwards and forwards, a second series of rollers, placed 
rather nearer in towards the middle of the press, work with 
a to-and-fro movement over the whole extent of the ink table, 
thus carrying the ink in from the edge and spreading it evenly 
over the surface. The transfer of the ink from table to forme 
is effected by other rollers, called inkers, which are placed 
quite close in by the cylinder. Each slide of the carriage 
brings the whole ink table under these inkers, except those 
few inches at the end which are the dumping-ground of the 
ink-for the carriage does not slide quite enough to bring 
that small outer strip so far in. So the inkers pick up well- 
spread ink only, which they then deposit, as the forme in 
turn passes beneath them, evenly over the face of the plates. 
F or the difference we noticed before bet"reen the level of the 
ink-table and that of the face of the forme is so minute that 



PRINTING 


95 


the surface of the inkers can touch both, though the rollers 
press rather more heavily on the slightly higher ink-table 
than on the slightly lower forme. 
I t must not be taken that we have described, or even 
mentioned, every part of the press. To the mechanism 
which moves and exactly synchronises the working parts, we 
have barely referred, and there are many devices in the press, 
some of them essential, which have had to pass unobserved. 
N or should it be assumed that names, where given, have 
always been used in their strict technical sense. Thus, for 
convenience of description, we have spoken of the whole part 
that slides as the carr'iage, though strictly that name applies 
only to the beds and bearers. But, in broad outline, we have 
attempted to display the main working parts of a modern 
perfecting press. N ow let us watch a sheet pass through. 
A pile of paper stands above one end of the press on a 
support which slopes gently down towards the centre of the 
machine and ends in an edge along the middle of the top of 
the nearest cylinder. Each sheet in turn is fed up so as to 
project just beyond the edge. This feeding may be done 
either by hand or by a special machine; but in either case 
the sheet, being ready by the edge, is seized by a series of 
gripþers, or mechanical fingers, which come round on the 
revolving cylinder, across which they are set in a ro\v from 
side to side. The sheet, held along its front edge, and so 
pulled, by these grippers, passes do\vn on the cylinder. 
N ow it will be remembered that the cylinder is raised, 
except while the forme itself is passing outwards below it. 
That arrangement prevents any soiling of the cylinder by 
contact with ink, for just as the head of the inked forme is 
about to pull out under the cylinder, which at that moment 
descends on it, the front edge of our paper comes round to 
the bottom on the surface of the cylinder. As the whole 
forme passes out, the whole sheet is printed on one side, 
between forme and cylinder, and the latter rises again once 
the forme has passed. 
Let us keep our eyes on the sheet. As it revolves with 



96 CAMBRIDGE MODERN HISTORY 


the cylinder and comes again to the top, it passes under the 
edge off which it was pulled, and it has now made one com- 
plete revolution. We shall see it turn on the same cylinder 
only for a quarter of a second revolution. For half-way down 
on its second descent, it comes, for the second time, to the 
place where the t\VO cylinders practically touch. N ow the 
second cylinder has grippers like the first, and as the front 
edge of our paper reaches the meeting place of the cylinders, 
both rows of grippers are adjacent. The grippers of the first 
cy1inder open, the grippers of the second cylinder close, and 
the sheet is held, again by the front edge but now on the 
second cylinder, round which its motion continues. But what 
was the inner surface of the paper as it revolved with the 
first cylinder, has now become the outer surface on the second 
cylinder, and is ready for the second forme to print. 
A quarter of a revolution on the second cylinder and the 
front edge of the sheet reaches the bottom. The slide of the 
carriage in the direction in which it was travelling \vhile the 
first side of the paper was printed, has now ceased, the return 
journey has begun, and the head of the second forme is 
about to pass out under the second cylinder. Down comes 
cylinder to forme, with the front edge of our paper in 
between; and, as the forme pulls out, the sheet is printed 
on its second side. 
Now that our sheet is þerfect, we have only to watch it 
out of the press. It leaves the second cylinder just before 
coming round to the top, having made, on that cylinder, not 
quite three quarters of a revolution. At the point of departure, 
a drum, called the take-off drunz, revolves against the surface 
of the cylinder. This drum carries a third row of grippers. 
As before, the grippers which ha Ie the sheet open, those 
about to obtain it simultaneously close, and the front edge of 
the sheet is diverted round the drum. I t is pulled away from 
the cylinder, round a small half circle, and then released. 
Parallel tapes, which pass continuously round the drum and 
run downhill to smaller wheels some four feet away, on the 
side furthest from the cylinder, now carry the sheet along. 



PRINTING 


97 


So soon as the \vhole sheet is clear of the take-off drum, jl)Jers 
-long wooden fingers, pivoted at the knuckle-rise between 
the tapes, waft the sheet through a semi-circular arc, and drop 
it on to the take-off board, which is fixed at the end of the 
press opposite that from which the sheet started. There the 
J'oggers, four small boards set on edge, shift slightly in and out 
and continually pat, and so keep trim, the four edges of a fast 
gro\ving pile of printed sheets. 
Had we not been following our sheet, \ve could have 
\vatched the cleansing of the second cylinder from traces of 
ink acquired by carrying round on its surface paper \vhich had 
been printed on the inner side but a mOlnent before. This 
cleansing is effected by two rollers, covered with plush and 
auton1atically kept moist with paraffin, which revolve against 
the cylinder and so clean its surface. We ought to have 
paused, too, just for a minute, while the front edge of our sheet 
was still being pulled a way from the cylinder by the grippers 
of the take-off drum. While those grippers still held the head 
of the sheet, and \vhile the tail was still coming round on the 
cylinder, the empty grippers of the cylinder itself reached the 
top. At that very moment both cylinders had made exactly 
two revolutions since our sheet started, the sliding carriage 
had made one movement backwards and forwards, and the 
next sheet was just starting on its journey. Yet three 
seconds only had passed since its predecessor \vas pulled 
fron1 the same edge on to the first of the revolving cy]inders. 
Compare the speed of a machine such as \ve have tried to 
describe \vith that of John Siberch's old press. The page of 
The Canzbridge 1710dern H'istory is a big one, nine and a 
quarter inches by six and three-eighths, but our modern 
perfector can take a sheet large enough to print thirty-two 
pages on either side. And it can turn out, at the rate of 
twelve hundred an hour, perfectly printed sheets, backed with 
that absolute accuracy of position on which a good result 
greatly depends. Each sheet having thirty-two pages on 
either side, or sixty-four pages in all, we have a total of 
76,800 printed pages for one hour's run of our machine.. 


c. M, H. P. 


'1 



98 CAMBRIDGE MODERN HISTORY 


Now at what rate could Siberch work his press? He could 
only use a sheet large enough to print four pages of the 
History on a side. In one operation, he could print his sheet 
on one side only. And, work as hard as he might and with 
all proper assistance, he could not possibly turn out more 
than two hundred unbacked sheets in an hour. Those sheets 
would give him 800 pages for his hour's run-just the odd 
hundreds of our total of 76,800. Let us put it in another 
way. Work which would have occupied Siberch's printing- 
press for a full year, could be done, and better done, in about 
half a week on either of the presses partly shown, to right 
and left, in the foreground of the illustration opposite. 


Printed sheets, ho\vever, are not the whole book, for 
there is still the binding to be done. The four bindings 
of The Cambrz"dge Modern History are described on 
pages 104-5. As the work is not performed at the Cam- 
bridge Press but in London, and by various binders, it 
must suffice to touch here on two general matters, the 
understanding of which is essential to a proper knowledge 
of the bindings in which sets of The Canzbridge Moderlz 
History are now published. 
Some readers, perhaps, may be surprised to hear that, 
with scarcely an exception, books published in England to- 
day are not bound at all, in the strict sense of that word, 
when they reach their hands. Technically, they are cased. 
The difference bet\veen a bound and a cased book will appear 
from a glance at part of each process of manufacture. 
I n binding a book, using the term in its proper sense, the 
prin ted sheets are first folded, collated and pressed. Then 
they are sewn together and the thread, in forming the stitches, 
is made to pass round a number of co'rds \vhich are held 
stretched across the back. These cords are pieces of stout 
hemp and their number varies with the size and weight of 
the book-for convenience of description let us suppose there 
are five. So, when all the sheets are stitched together, five 
cords remain firmly sewn a
ross the back, in parallel lines, 




 


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BINDING 


99 


with equal, or nearly equal, spaces between. Each cord has 
its two ends hanging loose. After\vards, though at a later 
stage, the binder takes the piece of millboard which is to 
form the stiffening of one side of the cover, lays it against the 
sheets in the exact position it will afterwards occupy, and 
marks at its back edge the position of the five loose ends of 
cord. The millboard is then taken a\vay and pierced with 
two rows of holes, each pair on a level with on
 of the marks, 
but one hole about a quarter of an inch, and the other about 
three quarters of an inch, in from the edge of the board. 
The board for the other side having been similarly treated, 
both are laced on to the sheets. This is done by taking each 
loose end of cord in turn, passing it round outside the back 
edge of the mill-board, in through the first hole and out again 
through the second, ,:vhere it is cut off and secured. On the 
foundation of the boards, thus laced to the very sheets, the 
cover is then built up piece by piece. \Vhen it is finished, 
therefore, the cover is part of the structure of the book. 
I n a cased book, this is not so. I n casing, a less ex- 
pensive operation than binding, the process is this. When 
the inside sheets of the book are ready for their cover, a piece 
of mull, a rough, light canvas, is cut nearly the height of the 
sheets and about twice the breadth of their back. This mull is 
then glued down the back of the sheets so that a strip projects 
on either side. The cover, or case, has meanwhile been made 
separately, and is now put on and fastened by glue to the 
projecting strips of mull. There are two methods of doing 
this. The usual way is to place the sheets in position in the 
cover and then to glue the strips down to the boards on either 
side; where, as a rule, they can after\vards be noticed under 
the end-þaþers, or outside sheets of the book, which are pasted 
over them. But where the book is to have a leather back, or 
a cover entirely of leather, another method is usually followed. 
The projecting strips of mull are folded over, across the back 
of the sheets. The sheets are then placed in the cover, the 
strips being glued, not to the boards, but to the inside of the 
leather back. This manner of casing leaves no trace of the 
7- 2 



100 CAMBRIDGE MODERN HISTORY 


mull under the end-paper and has the real advantage of 
giving rather greater strength, provided that the leather used 
for the back be sound and strong. But in no cased book is 
there any structural connection between cover and sheets, 
or the prospect of a life approaching that of a book \vhich, 
in the real sense of the word, can be said to be bound. 
I ndeed, cased books are defined, by writers on the binder's 
craft, as books temporarily bound; and the definition is 
true \vhether the cover be of the stoutest leather or the 
frailest cloth. F or the lesser durability of a cased book 
arises from the defect, not of the external covering, but of 
the internal structure of the book. 
The second matter to which some brief reference should 
be made, concerns the quality of the leather used in those 
t\VO bindings of The Calnbr'idge Modern History \vhich are 
true bindings in the proper sense of the word; namely, the 
Three-Quarter and the Full Morocco bindings described on 
page 105. 
The best, as it is also the most costly, of the leathers used 
for covering books, is Morocco-that is, goat skin, tanned 
and dyed on the grain side. The appearance and the dura- 
bility of Morocco depend both on the selection of the skin 
and on the nature of the processes which it undergoes before 
use on a book. As to appearance, nothing need be said 
here, for anyone who sees a volume of The Cambridge 
Mode1
n History in either the Three-Quarter or the Full 
!\lorocco binding, is in a position to judge for himself. 
With regard to the durability of the leather, of chief 
importance are certain of the processes through \vhich the 
skin passes. The first of these, bating or þurÙzg as it is 
called, is a process by \vhich all but a very small amount of 
the natural grease is removed from the skin. Should this be 
overdone, the fibre is destroyed and the skin must be thrown 
aside. On the other hand, should it not be carried far 
enough, then, when the skin comes afterwards to be tanned 
into leather, dyed and finished, the grease still left \vill cause 
it to discolour. This fact has led to the introduction of a 



BINDING 


101 


supplemental process of extracting surplus grease, after tan- 
ning, by the use of benzine :-a process, highly injurious to 
the life of the leather, which is not employed with the 
Morocco used for The Cambridge Modern History. But if 
the first removal of grease has been skilful1y done, the skin 
passes undamaged to the tanning. 
Morocco may be tanned either with bark or with sumach, 
the leaf of a plant grown in many parts of the world but, for 
commercial purposes, principally in Sicily. F or leather 
intended for book covering, sumach is by far the better 
tanning material. First and foremost, leather tanned with 
sUlnach has a much greater resistance than bark-tanned leather 
to the destructive action of light, heat, gas fumes and oxidising 
agents. I n the second place, sumach tannage leaves the 
leather soft and pliable, and \vith a \vhite surface, while bark 
makes it hard and gives it a brown shade. For book-binding 
purposes, both hardness and colour are defects; indeed the 
latter makes it impossible, when dyeing, to obtain many of 
the shades that are desired. 
Sumach, then, is the better tanning material for Morocco 
inteI\ded for book covers. But there are t\VO ways of using 
it. I n one, the easier process, the skins are merely immersed, 
loose, in the pits or tubs which hold the tanning liquor, an 
infusion of powdered sumach with water. The other, the 
older and the better way, is known as bottle tanning. By 
this method, one skin is placed against another, each with the 
grain side outwards, and the two are se\vn together round the 
edges. Before the joining is complete, the space in between 
the skins is filled \vith concentrated sumach liquor and a 
certain amount of powdered sumach itself. Then the sewing 
is finished, so that the skins form a bottle from which the 
inside liquor cannot escape. This bottle is floated in a large 
tub, filled with sumach liquor, and allowed to stay there till, 
owing to the fermentation of the liquor inside the bottle, 
transfusion sets up through the skins, the tanning is carried 
right through and the skins are turned into sound and durable 
leather. 



102 CAMBRIDGE MODERN HISTORY 


I t is by the latter l11ethod, based on the old practice of 
the lVloors, that the Morocco used for the two best bindings 
of The Cal1zbr'idge Modern H'istory is tanned. Save to those 
with some expert kno\vledge, it is not easy at any time to 
form an opinion of the quality of a leather. I t is still more 
difficult when that leather is pasted down, as in a book, so 
that only one of its surfaces can be seen and its substance 
cannot be felt. But skins of the actual Morocco used in the 
Three-Quarter and Fun Morocco bindings of the H'istory 
are kept at the Can1bridge University Press Warehouse, in 
Fetter Lane, London, where they ,vill gladly be shown to 
anyone who cares to call and inspect them. 



10 3 


CHAPTER V. 


TERMS ON WHICH THE HISTORY MAY NOW BE OBTAINED 


rf'"" > . . -',:. 0 far: this li
tle 
ook, if it has in any way 
\I 
 ;(!f-
 '. 
chleved Its aim,. 
as conveye
 some 
" 
:, .... 
 '....' 
 Idea of the orIgin, authorship and 
\; 
1). - 
 pr
duction of The Ca11Z
ridge Mode
n 
1:"\ I" 

ð Hzstory. It only remams to explam 

 ...., . the special terms on which the work 


" _
 can now be obtained. 
The sale of the History has always been great, but the 
Syndics of the Cambridge University Press are of opinion, 
not,vithstanding that fact, that a large number of readers and 
students would be glad of the opportunity of acquiring so 
important a work by small periodical payments. They have 
therefore made arrangements, through their publishing house 
in London, to supply the History for a limited time on the 
instalment principle. 
Lest the use of the words for a limited tÙne should in any 
way be misunderstood, it should be eXplained that publishing 
houses do not, as a rule, deal directly,vith the individual book 
buyer. To do so in this instance, special arrangements have 
had to be made, and it would be both inconvenient and 
unnecessary to continue those arrangements for longer time 
than is sufficient to give the opportunity, which it is desired 
that all should have, of acquiring the work by payments 
which are within the reach of nearly everyone. The offer 
now made must therefore be temporary. 



10 4 


SPECIAL TERMS 


Those who wish to take advantage of the opportunity 

3nould tear out of this book the order-form they will find 
'on page 107. When they have filled it up, they may do one 
of two things :-either post it direct, accompanied by a 
remittance of half-a-crown, to H. Department, Cambridge 
University Press Warehouse, Fetter Lane, London, E. C. ; 
or hand it, with the same sum, to any bookseller, to be 
forwarded by him without further trouble to the subscriber. 
vVhichever course they adopt, the books will be despatched 
direct from the Cambridge University Press Warehouse to 
the subscriber, and all further payments will be made-not 
to the bookseller who forwards the order and deposit-but 
direct to the Cambridge University Press Warehouse in 
London. Exactly what those further payments will be is 
clearly stated on the order-form on page 107, and is repeated 
on the last printed page of the book, for reference when the 
.order-form has been torn out. 
The eight volumes of the History ,vhich are now ready- 
the particulars, it will be remembered, have already been given 
-will be despatched immediately, and no further payment 
\vill become due until thirty days after their receipt by the 
subscriber. The four remaining volumes of the History, the 
volume of Maps and the volume containing the full and 
detailed General Index and Genealogical and other Tables, 
will be despatched separately as each is published. I f the 
subscriber's home be within the London postal district all 
volumes \vill be delivered free of charge. Outside that 
district they will be delivered carriage paid to any rail \-va y 
station in the United Kingdom. 
Hitherto The Cambrz.dge Modern History has been issued 
in one binding only. That binding is one of those obtainable 
on the terms now offered, but it has been thought desirable 
to add three new bindings of a more permanent character. 
The least expensive of these, the Roxburghe binding described 
below, has a leather back and is cased by the better of the 
two methods described on page 99. I t forms therefore a 
somewhat stronger and more durable book than the original 



AND BINDINGS 


10 5 


buckram binding. The second of the new bindings, the 
Three-Quarter iJ1"orocco, though necessarily more expensive, is 
a bÙ'zding in the proper sense, as eXplained on pages 98-99. 
The boards are laced to the inside sheets, the leather back is 
drawn on and brought round a full t\VO inches on to the sides. 
The corners of the book are also protected by leather for a 
length of more than three inches. As the leather used is the 
sumach bottle-tanned Morocco about which a word is said on 
pages 100-1, it is not too much to say that this binding, save 
for the sn1all part of the sides which remains unprotected by 
leather, is as permanent as any binding can be. I n the third, 
and best, of the new bindings, the Full Morocco, the sides are 
completely covered by the leather, which is of the same 
quality as that used for the Three-Quarter binding, though of 
a some\vhat finer selection. I t may appear almost unnecessary 
to add that the volumes in Full Morocco, like those in the 
Three-Quarter binding, are properly bound books. 
To detail the four forms in \vhich The Ca1nbridge Moder1z 
History is no\v obtainable:- 
I. Buckram binding. Bound (i.e. cased) in polished buckram, dark 
blue in colour, on bevelled boards. Lettered in gold on back. Gilt top. 
2. Roxburghe binding. Quarter-bound (i.e. caseá) in brown 
Persian sheepskin. With raised bands on back and lettering in gold. 
The leather brought round about one inch and a quarter on to brown 
cloth sides. Gilt top; silk head-band. 
3. Three-Quarter Morocco binding . Bound in sumach bottle-tanned 
lYIorocco, of a pleasant shade of green. \Vith raised bands on back, 
the panels between lightly decorated and lettered in gold. The leather 
brought round two inches on to green cloth sides, which have also 
large leather corners. Gilt top; silk head-band; 
lorris end-papers; 
broad silk book-mark. 


4. Full lYlorocco binding. Bound in sumach bottle-tanned 

Iorocco, rose-red in colour. 'Vith raised bands on back and lettering 
in gold. Gold roll inside covers, carried right round on leather joints. 
All edges gilt j silk head-band j 110rris end-papers; broad silk book- 
mark. 



106 BINDINGS, BOOKCASE, CASH PRICES 


The volumes in the Three-Quarter and Full Morocco 
bindings are really beautiful books. More or less technical 
descriptions, such as those just given, often fail to convey a clear 
idea of the actual look of the books described. But arrange- 
ments will be made for the display of specimen sets of The 
Cambr'idge Modern History in most of the chief towns of 
England, Scotland and Ireland. Meanwhile, those who live 
in London, or visit there, are invited to call at the Cambridge 
University Press Warehouse in Fetter Lane, where they can 
inspect the volumes. 


A book-case, specially designed to hold a set of The 
Cambridge Modern History, is shown in the illustration 
opposite. The volumes which appear in the picture are 
bound in the Three-Quarter I\10rocco binding. The book- 
case is of fumed oak. I ts design can be seen from the 
illustration, it is wen and strongly made, and its measure- 
D1ents are as follows :-height, three feet nine and a half 
inches; breadth of top, one foot eleven inches; of body, one 
foot four and a half inches. If desired, this book-case may be 
bought with the H'lstory and on the same system, but it is not 
sold apart from the books. 
Those \vho prefer to pay at once in full, may by doing so 
obtain the History, in any of the four bindings and with or 
without the book-case, at a slightly lower price. The order- 
form given on page 109 for their convenience, states the 
different cash prices, and these also are repeated for reference 
on the last printed page of the book. 
Those who have already purchased the History in the 
original buckram binding, may, should they wish it, now have 
their volumes rebound, in any of the three new bindings, at 
the prices given on the last page of the book. Volumes to be 
rebound may either be forwarded, carriage paid, to H. Depart- 
ment, Cambridge University Press Warehouse, Fetter Lane, 
London, E.C., accompanied by the proper remittance, or they 
may be left at any bookseller's, and the charge there prepaid. 



-! . 


Bookcase designed for 
THE CAMBRIDGE MODERN HISTORY 



INSTALMENT ORDER FORM 


10 7 


Cheques, þostn./ orders and "zoney orders should be made 
þayable to C. F. Clay, and crossed' êr Co.' 


To THE M.-\NAGER 
H. DEPARTMENT 
CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS WAREHOUSE 
FETTER LANE, LONDON, E.C. 
I enclose Half-a-Crown. Please send me as soon as possible the eight volumes 
now ready of THE CAMBRIDGE MODERN HISTORY and the remaining volumes of 
the HISTORY, the volume of MAPS and the volume of GENERAL INDEX and 
TABLES, immediately on the publication of each. I agree to complete my purchase 
as follows :- 


For the Buckram binding 
" Roxburghe binding 
" Three-Quarter Morocco binding 
" Full IVforocco binding 


35 further payments of 5/- per month 
6/6 
8/6 
12/- 


" 


" 


" 


Stn'kt 
out all 
bui on
 
of thðe 
lilt
s 


" 


" 


" 


" 


" 


" 


The first of these payments to be made thirty days after I receive the eight 
volunles now ready, and the remaining payments on the corresponding day of each 
month thereafter. 


j PleaSe send me the fumed-oak book-case described, for which 
I agree to make 7 further monthly payments of 5/- each, after 
the payments for the books are completed. 
I further agree that if, owing to unforeseen circumstances, of which you shall 
be the judge, the volumes cannot be delivered, the return of the deposit of 
Half-a-Crown to me shall cancel this agreement. 


Strike out if 
Book-case 
not desired 


[ Signed] __.....________..__.__._.._...___.____._____.________....--..---.-...------.-...--.--.. ..--.-..-.----..---......_____.___ 
PÜase write clearly 
[Rank or Occuþation] ______....__..___.___..__.__._____.__..__...___________.__._..._............_._.__ 
[ Res idenc e ).. .........,....._.._..._........... .........................._....._.____..._.......__._____..._..__..._.............._................_.__ 
[Address to which bOORS are to be sent]...........___.__,_...__....._.._........_.._.._....__.... __..._..........._.._ 
[Name of nearest R ai/way Station ]...._.........._..___...._......._.__......._.._....._._...__.____.____ 
The volumes, and book-case if ordered, are 
delivered free of charge within the London [ D t ] 
postal district. Outside that district they are a e .------.--...------...---.--- 
delivered carriage paid to any railway station 
in the United Kingdom. 


This Order-form, when signed, may either be þosted direct (accomþanied by a remittance 
oJ Half-a-CrO'Wn) to the lJ,fanager, H. Deþartment, Cambn'dge University Press Ware- 
lzouse, Fetter Lane, London, E.C., or r:t may be handed with that sum to any Bookseller, 
to be forwarded by him without further trouble to the subscriber. In either case, all 
subsequent tnstalments wUI be þayable direct to the M anagèr, H. Deþartment, Camb1 idge 
University Press Warehouse. 




CASH ORDER-FORM 


10 9 


Cheques, po.rtal orders and 11l-0ney ortkrs should be made 
þaJ'able to C. F. Clay, and crossed' & Co.' 


To THE MANAGER 
H. DEPARTMENT 
CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS WAREHOUSE 
FETTER LANE, LONDON, E.C. 


I enclose L8. 12S. 6d., full payment for THE CAMBRIDGE 
MODERN HISTORY (12 vols.) with the volume of MAPS 
and the volume of GENERAL INDEX and TABLES, in the 
Buckram binding. 


Strike 01lt 
all but one of 
these 
paragraphs 


I enclose LII. os. ode full payment for THE CA...fBRIDGE 
.iJ10DERN HISTORY (12 vols.) with the volume of MAPs 
and the volume of GENERAL INDEX and TABLES, in the 
Roxburghe binding. 


I enclose ;{I4. 5s. ode full payment for THE CAMBRIDGE 
MODERN HISTORY (12 vols.) with the volume of MAPS 
and the volume of GENERAL INDEX and TABLES, in the 
Three-Quarter 1vIorocco binding. 


I enclose L20. os. ad. full payment for THE CAMBRIDGE 
MODERN HISTORY (12 vols.) with the volume of .ftf.APS 
and the volume of GENERAL INDEX and TABLES, in the 
Full Morocco binding. 


f 
þ 
I 


Stl1'ke out if 
Book-case 
not desired 


I also enclose ;(, I. 13S. 6d. for the fumed-oak book-case described 


þ 
t:J 
I 
I.t 


[ Sig1ted]._________.._____ 
Pltase writt cl
arly 


[Rank or Occupatioll ].-_____.__________________._____________________ 


[ R e sidenc e ]______._........_...._....__..........._......................_.._.__.___.___.___._._._______.___.....___...____ ......._ 


[A ddress to which books are to be sent]__ 


[Name of nearest Railwa)' Station l--.-.---..-..------ 


The volumes, and book-case if ordered, are 
delivered free of charge within the London 
postal district. Outside that district they are 
delivered carriage þaid to any railway station 
in the United Kingdom. 


[Date] 


This Order-form, when signed, may either be þosted direct (aü"omþaltÙd bJI the þroþèr 
remittance) to the Jfanager, H. Department, Cambn'dge University Press vVart'house 
Fetter La1Ze, Londo1l, E.C" or it may be handed with that SU111 to any BooÁ'seller, to b; 
fOFdJarded by him without further trouble to the subscriber. 



. 



THE CAMBRIDGE MODERN HISTORY 


(Twelve volumes text, with volume of maps and 
volume of general index and tables) 


LIST OF INSTALMENT AND CASH PRICES 


Instalme1z.ts Cash þrice, net 
2/6 deposit + 35 monthly 
payments of 5/- each L8. I2S. 6d. 
Roxburghe 2/6 deposit + 35 monthly 
payments of 6/6 each LI I. os. ode 


Bindi11g 


Buckram 


Three-Quarter l\lorocco 2/6 deposit + 35 monthly 
payments of 8/6 each L14. 5s. ode 
Full Morocco 2/6 deposit + 35 monthly 
payments of 12/- each L20. os. ode 


7 additional monthly 
payments of 5/- each LI. 13s. 6d. 


Bookcase 


RebÙld'ing charge 
per volu1ne 


For rebinding Buckram volumes in 
Roxburghe, 5/-; in Three-Quarter 
Morocco, 10/-; in Full Morocco, 
16/6. 


Note.- These prices only hold good so long as the instalment offer 
is in force. The Syndics of the Cambridge University Press 
reserve to themselves the right of withdrawing that offer at 
any time, though endeavour will be made to provide reasonable 
notice. The three special bindings, the Roxburghe, the 
Three-Quarter Morocco and the Full Morocco, will not be 
procurable for cash, after the withdrawal of the instalment offer. 



.\ 



'-' 


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